Of the Rest
by nikanak
Summary: Makayla Aewood is an abnormality to the fey world. Given a distinctly precious gift, she must find her place and learn to accept herself, while facing a fiendish winter prince, an angered summer king, and a chance at real love.
1. Introduction

It is a rare sight indeed. To see one child so confidently speak to her imaginary friend, to her companion that the world cannot see, to her dreams and desires. Well, now, in this time, it is. For there is a human child standing beside her, teasing the young girl with short brunette curls. He is cruel indeed to the tyke, and the other children at the playground notice the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It has gone from playful to hostile in a mere three and a half seconds. The girl is looking to her fey friend for any help, for a word to silence those other childrens' doubts. But from a distant enemy, and clump of cold wet mud smacks the child in the face. She hasn't responded to the verbal abuse, and so the other children resort to violence and cruelty.

She stumbles away, begging for them to stop, begging for her classmates to show her mercy. And the children don't, of course, but she continues to beg.

She is running now, far away from those children, far away from those ugly words and ugly actions, far away from her imaginary friend who isn't so imaginary. She is running far away from who she truly is as she weeps behind a wooded shed and denounces her faerie friend who has caused her this pain.


	2. The Human Condition

It's been a long time since that day so many years back. I can still recall so freshly in my memory my mother slapping me across my swollen cheeks for getting that horrible pink dress all muddy. She didn't notice the bruises from the mud the other children had flung at me. She didn't comfort me or tell me that other children are cruel. She didn't tell me to never loose my imagination.

No.

She worsened the welts on my face, yelled at me until I cried, and told me to stop being such an air head. And at that time, all I could do was sit at the kitchen table and cry myself into a hiccuping state.

But that was a long time ago, I reminded myself, focusing on the engine of the '03 Buick Rendezvous. A small swirl of smoke had sizzled up from the machinery and I went back to work immediately. I had messed up on jobs like this before, and I couldn't afford for this mistake to come out of my pay; not now. I didn't stop to wipe the sweat off my brow and I didn't think about silly imaginary friends.

It wasn't ideal, my lifestyle, that is. It should never fall upon the youngest to support her entire family, but it had slowly come to that. I should have known when my uncle graciously gave me this job at the tender age of 12 that he knew things were turning sour.

Things weren't always as bad as they were now. I could clearly remember times when my mother had held me close and sang me her sweet Spanish lullabies, when she wasn't so drugged up that she couldn't remember anything, that is. I have visions of my dad and my brother teaching me to play football for the first time, all smiles and all laughter.

It wasn't until I was 13 that my mother died. My father never really told me of what; drug overdose, heart attack, jumped out a window, he gave us all sorts of excuses. But I knew he was only trying to protect us.

My brother was 17 at the time, only just experimenting with alcohol and going out to parties. He helped for a few months to take care of me and my dad, but soon, he was too inebriated to function as well. Clarke dropped out of school only three months before graduation, and didn't even bother to get a job. He still lives in our run down apartment, sitting on the couch every day from 1 o' clock in the afternoon to six at night. Then he parties, crashes, and doesn't get up until noon the next day.

My father really changed after that. He got a job with my uncle too, went sober for a few years and stopped his risky behaviors. But still, he couldn't support us all, and my uncle had done all he could to help us. He was such a loving man, but he had a family to feed for too, one much larger than ours could ever be. And when my dad went to the hospital the first time he got a heart attack, my uncle covered the cost and helped nurse my father back to health. He got better after a few weeks, but his heart caused him trouble nearly two months later.

I closed the hood and looked up to the impatient customer. "Are you sure it's going to run well?" he snapped. "Did you spend enough time on the engine? I don't want it blowing up the second I roll outta here, young lady."

"Your car is fixed, sir," I stated, holding in my annoyance.

I wiped my hands off on my jumpsuit and put my tools back on my shelf. In two weeks I would get my paycheck for the month, and be able to pay my dad's hospital bills. My account was going dry and we were quickly running out of food at the house. I had been putting in 50 hours a week, working from 3 to 10 in the evenings, but with this on top of school, I could barely handle everything, including Clarke.

I had to give up everything, from my dreams of college and nursing school to my social life and my academic grades. I could only be stretched so thin. And Clarke hadn't contributed anything. I found now that when I closed my eyes in class, it was harder to open them. When I heard my alarm in the morning, it was difficult to reach over and turn it off. I barely ate, I barely slept, I barely did anything but work and go to school and visit my father in the hospital on weekends.

My uncle clapped me on the back, forcing me out of a stream of thought that seemed so important, but was so easily forgotten. "Mac, you okay?" he asked in a low voice. It was odd. He never talked with me while I worked. I was a dedicated mechanic at Uncle Joe's Motory, and he had a company to run: he never babysat me.

"I'm sorry," I forced with my tired, scratchy voice, forcing my blue eyes to stay trained on his aging face. I owed so much to my uncle, and here I was letting him down with how overworked and tired I had become.

He tilted his head and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. "You have nothing to apologize for, Mac," he sighed. "I'm worried about you, kid. You seem so… exhausted." His eyes looked upon me with pity.

His sister's beat down daughter stood before him, barely a healthy weight, staggering on her feet if she stood still for too long, sharp black curls falling down her back, tan Hispanic skin turning paler everyday. I breathed out a laugh and put my hands on my hips. "I can take care of myself," I turned around, readying to help the next customer.

Uncle Joe turned me around and pointed a calloused long finger at me. "This is not healthy, kid," he snapped. "You need to go home, eat some food, and get a night of rest."

"I'll be fine-" I pushed aside his advice.

"No," he cut me off, and the word hung in the air between us. "You're going home. This is not what my sister, what your mother, would have wanted for you. Don't come back until Monday, until you're able to work again."

"I need this money, tio!" I panicked. "My dad-"

"I'll take care of it," his face was stony, his dark eyes watered with hurt, and I had to follow his command. I could do nothing but grab my black sweater from a hook on the wall and storm out of his little auto-shop, walking furiously home.

But as I left I heard only the quietest of laughter in my ear. I saw out of the corner of my eye someone leaning against the stone wall, smirking at me and moving to follow me. When I turned my head, the figure was gone, but his sickening laughter echoed through the night air. But I was too old to believe that it was anything but my imagination. I had bigger fears and worries then, and couldn't be bothered by childish visions.


	3. In the Night

I was mumbling Spanish curses through gritted teeth as I slid on my sweater. I was still wearing my dirty jumpsuit, not having time to put it in my locker at my uncle's shop.

"It's ridiculous," I murmured to myself, running a hand through my curls. "I am a grown woman. I can take care of myself."

I heard that echoing laughter around me that brought goosebumps to my skin and a chill down my back. I could almost hear it talking, like a whistle through the breeze. It made me walk even faster, practically sprinting back to our apartment. "A grown woman indeed," it chimed. "And what would our prince think, now."

It wasn't real. It couldn't be. No one was following me. No one was there. No, no, no. It was only my imagination, not a reality. It was merely a hushed imagination, restless to break free inside my mind. So I focused my attention back on the shop, back on my homework, back on the finances for the family.

I hardly noticed the crack on the sidewalk before I went tumbling. My knee scratched the sidewalk painfully, and my hands caught me from nearly smashing my head against the pavement.

"A pretty catch, indeed," I heard the voice. No, it was a different voice now. I looked around quickly to see no one around me. But I could feel eyes on me, I could hear their breathing. My neck prickled as I felt a cold breath on my ear. But I was carefully examining the large gash on my right knee. I touched it and winced, closing my watery bright eyes.

When I opened them, three figures stood before me, looming and dreadful. I pulled myself to my feet with a gasp, and they were gone again, only outlines of where they stood remained. They were at least a half a foot taller than I, their features sharp and dark, their clothes from a different world.

I tried to dismiss it as simply a play of lights, but looking back I had to have known better than that. I broke into a run and behind me I could hear light footsteps following after me quickly. I got to the corner of our poorly lit apartment complex and stopped running.

"No," I caught my breath from the quick sprint. "This isn't real!" I shouted at myself. I looked around to see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing out of the ordinary. "There is no one out here!" I snapped, breathing heavily and listening to reassure myself. And luckily I was greeted with silence.

"No one," I repeated, calming down, wiping the frightening image of the three men from my mind. And once I finally caught my breath, I took out my key and entered the door of the complex. As I slid in through the door, though, I could have sworn that I heard the deep laughter of three tall men. I was too terrified to look back as I charged up the stairs into my safe apartment.


	4. Thieves

I woke up as the sun was high in the morning sky that next morning. It was odd getting an actually full night of sleep. It wasn't only energizing, but the sleep gave me a feeling that I had accomplished even more than I usually did.

In less than two hours, I did all of my schoolwork, cleaned the apartment a bit, and even gotten the chance to be a normal girl. I painted my nails for the first time in nearly a year, I straightened my hair and made it look stunning, slipped into a pair of dark jeggings and a black cami, and now sat cross-legged on the couch, slowly eating a bright green granny smith apple. And it was barely even noon.

And for those few hours I felt _normal_. I didn't call my uncle to beg to work again. I didn't smell the awful stench of smoke and alcohol that my brother always brought home. I didn't even feel tired, or depressed, or overpowered by life.

I stood up to look through the window to the rows of apartment buildings lined down this street. A few children stopped to play in small patches of grass near the sides of the road. A couple sat on their roof in a pair of matching lawn chairs to get a tan in the last month of this New York summer. Everything was right in the world.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the memory of my mother's spicy cooking, of my father's aftershave, of the sweet heat and the cool grass. I heard my father watching an exciting soccer game, my brother listening to his too- loud music, my mothers soft singing while she mixed together herbs and spices.

But when I opened my eyes and turned to the home I once loved, I let out a noise somewhere between a scream and a gasp. My apple dropped out of my hand, and I searched near me for a makeshift weapon. "Get out of my house!" I yelled, swearing in Spanish and holding a yellow plastic broom defensively out in front of my body.

"You can see me?" the boy, maybe my age or a little older, sounded shocked to ask. He stood lanky and tall, commanding and gawky, stunned but altogether quite amused.

I eyed him for only a minute before yelling at him again. "How did you even get in here? Get out, you thief, you criminal, you-"

"Calm down," he tried, talking a step closer to me. And I swatted him away with the plastic broom. His bright red hair distracted me. He didn't look like a thief, or really much of any form of a criminal to be quite honest, but my guard was up and he _was_ in my apartment unexplainably. How had I not heard him come in?

"I will call the cops," I snapped, looking around the apartment for my cell phone. The landline had been out for months. But the device was no where in sight.

"How are you-" he started, with a smirk, but I cut him off when I spotted my old piece of technology across the room. I swatted with the broom, landing one good blow to his chest before dropping my weapon and sprinting across the room to my phone. I grabbed it and slid it open and the other man's hand fell down upon mine, crushing it, and stealing it ever so quickly and sliding it across the room.

His palms wrapped tightly around my wrists, and I was cursing again. He was chucking. The thief, the criminal, the insane man standing in my living room was laughing. I glared at him, while trying to pull my wrists free.

"Before you get too ahead of yourself," he stated elegantly. "I'm Robin."

"What?" I yelped as my bare feet slid from under me and I toppled toward the ground. He sat down cross-legged with inhuman grace.

"You can call me Puck," he smiled, still holding my wrists as I pulled myself into a sitting position.

"What," I took a breath, and closed my eyes, gaining focus and energy to break free. "What are you doing in my apartment?"

Noises sounded outside my door, and my eyes flew open. My wrists dropped into my lap. And Robin or Puck or whatever-his-name-was was gone. I heard a whisper behind me. "Don't tell them I was here first."

"What is going-" I screamed as my door burst in. Three hulking, black figures charged through my doorway, looking for something. No, looking for someone. I saw flashes of metal, the glaring of pure white eyes, and a black fog form before me.

And suddenly I was coughing and gasping and unable to breathe or think. I passed out, unable to connect what was going on.


	5. The Trial

Everything was cold as I woke up shaking.

My bare feet and shoulders seemed stuck to the icy floor. I was so sure that I was dead or in some dark section of hell. My mouth was so dry I could barely breathe. My eyes stung so terribly as I blinked away tears brought on my the intense chill.

Darkness shrouded every corner. Every living shadow crawled around the floor, reaching for my legs my arms, my face. I tried to sit up, but collapsed back onto the icy ground. Freezing. Dark. I was so alone, yet so surrounded. Whispers echoed in my ears hissing and menacing.

"Help," I tried to call, but only a painful gasp emitted from my lips. I tried again and again, calling for anyone as I lay immobile and unprotected on the ground. No one came to retrieve me. And I was so- "Ow!" my scratchy voice echoed.

The intense sting up my leg made me cringe. I wrapped my knees to my chest, opening again my watery eyes to see who or what was the culprit of the pain.

"Just stay quiet," a warm voice snapped at me. "I'm trying to help."

I couldn't speak, but in the faint light I could see the color of bright red hair that I had seen at my apartment. I saw him place his hand on my calf, and the pain shot through my leg into my body again, and I hissed, kicking him in the arm with the heel of my foot. "That hurts," I choked out.

"Shh!" he demanded, and grabbed hold of my ankle so as I couldn't kick him again. And as he held onto my longer, I felt my chill leave me some. My teeth weren't chattering anymore. My goosebumps were less prominent. And I could breathe a little easier. I found myself catching my breath, my heart pounding and mind reeling.

"Do anything you can to survive," he ordered me. "You understand?"

I pushed my body off the floor weakly, a sharp icy wind incapacitating my mind as light exploded before my eyes and a clang of metal rattled me to my very bones. The red haired man, Puck, was gone, bringing his warmth with him. In his place stood a frigid, ungrateful, annoyed woman, grumbling and ordering her two tall, ash-skinned, spindly, bony lackeys to pull me to me feet and drag me behind her.

I'm not going to lie when I say that I don't remember too much of what happened. It's all rather fuzzy. I just remember thinking that felt like a newborn deer, fumbling around on twiggy legs for the right motion to walk. I felt sick as we all stopped walking; my eyes remained fixed on the marble floor and my unnaturally pale feet.

The woman pulled my face up to examine me, and I couldn't even look at her face. I saw her fat green fingers on my face and shoulder. And I felt the rough brush of her spiked skin across my collarbone as she weaved something into my hair. The woman that stood before me pulled an oversized emerald knit sweater over my head, and pinched my cheeks. My dizziness was cleared for only a moment before I was literally pushed through a set of silver and black double doors.

I stumbled into a ballroom. I'm sure it looked quite grand, but I wouldn't know I saw only the white and black marble underneath my still bare feet. Without the two men that dragged me in here, I felt as though I would topple over and wretch at any second now. And I almost did when I saw a pair of large black leather boots stand before my own small feet. I realized then that someone was talking to me in a deep, regal voice, and averted my eyes slowly from the floor.

I took in this man's long leather coat, deep black v-neck, tight dark jeans, and short black hair before noting his bright blue eyes. I took a step back, startled by the diamond- blue color on such a man. And then I started hearing his words.

"A pristine offering, really," he was smirking. "She doesn't need nearly any food to sustain her. And her rough hands: she's done hard labor before." He grabbed my hand, and it was as if my chilly haze was finally wiped clean of my mind. A light switched in my mind and as this man analyzing me pried the scrapes and cuts on my hand apart, I reached out with the other and elbowed the man in the face… hard.

He was a good half a foot taller than me, and I funny bone tingled with the painful contact with the man strong jaw. But I staggered back another few steps with my 'weak legs', prepared to attack again if needed.

"Sage!" I heard a shrill woman's voice snap, and my arms were quickly yanked behind my back. "And you were saying this mouse had potential."

"Yes, my queen," a voice behind me stated simply. He didn't hold my hands tightly, just in place behind my back. I gave a yank once, but my forearms were securely restricted.

I observed the ballroom or courtroom or throneroom or whatever it was that I had been brought to. Only four people accompanied me in the large icy room. A terribly gorgeous woman stood on an elevated floor, her black crisp suit a shocking negative of her flawless white skin. Blackened eyes glared right through me, and her dark hair was pulled back straight into a tight, elegant bun. She was the alpha in this hall, her presence demanded a sophistication, a great respect. I recognized her as the queen I had heard two people say now.

On her left side a boy sat, my age. Black hair, blue eyes, casual jeans, and black sweater: my eyes barely glazed over his uninterested look as the man that previously grabbed my hand spoke again.

"Look at her, mother," he looked me over disgustedly as he rubbed the stubble on his unhurt jaw. "She obviously won't put up much of a fight."

"Just because you can't take a punch-" I started, before he was across the room, hand to my neck, restricting the air in my chest. I sputtered and clawed at his hand, realizing my hands were released. I felt my feet dangling in the air, further choking the air out of me.

"Good boy, Rowan," the queen smirked cruelly as I dug my nails into my assailant's hand, leaving no mark and no trace of injury upon him.

"Brother," I heard the deep voice that held me back command. After I was sure I would pass out, I was dropped to the hard ground.

"You ever insult a prince of the winter court again," he growled, "they will be your last words."

Breathing came painfully, as my body greedily sucked the chilled air into my lungs. But mid- gasp, a foot collided hard with my ribs and I tumbled into the wall, feeling a sickening crack in my mid region. I coughed blood onto the white and black chess board of a floor. My mouth felt coppery and a dizzy haze arose around me again. I couldn't focus although I fought so hard to pay attention to the conversation.

I heard my own heartbeat. I felt my own breath straining against my bruised throat and what I assumed was a cracked rib. I saw my own blood, red and sticky, against the polish ground.

Where the hell was I? Who brought me here? Why?

So many questions raced through my head as white dots formed behind my eyes and I collapsed completely into the floor, unconscious.


	6. Princes and Nightmares

**A/N: I would like to make it clear that I am deviating from the initial plot basis of iron fey. In this version, Meghan is not in the picture nor are the iron fey, but it is set in modern times. So. Just a clarification. :) Enjoy.**

I awoke to a woman's harsh tone echoing through the abnormally cold room.

It didn't take me long to realize I was in the cold, dark, metallic room where I had been kept in before, yet this time, it seemed even colder than before.

"She is of no use to us, Rowan!" the queen hissed. "I'm neither impressed nor appreciative of your talent to find the abnormal mortal, and I have no use of her here. Dispose of her. Humans aren't welcome in this court, nor will they ever be."

There was silence as I fought to keep my breath steady and eyes closed, creating the illusion that I was still unconscious. My throat felt so constricted though, and something poked my lungs sharply whenever I took a breath. I would not be able to keep the façade up for long.

"My queen," I heard the man, Rowan, speak in forced calm tones. "I do not think you understand the implications of her being brought to the winter court. The things we could do with her unique ability, her strength…"

"Then you keep her," the queen spat. "You seem to be so fond of her. Keep the child. When she causes you trouble, do not ask for pity or assistance from me, son."

"My queen-"

"It is spoken," she snapped. "It is done! She is in your care. Keep her as a pet or as a weapon or whatever you please, but do not involve me in your plots. You tread dangerous ground, now, Rowan."

I heard the door slam behind the queen as she stormed out of my cell. After her exit, a loud banging reverberated off the metallic walls. My eyes opened only a crack to see Rowan punching a metal wall repeatedly, leaving an imprint in the shape of a fist.

At that moment, I believe that the gravity of the situation truly hit me. This was not a dream, this was not simply a matter of hiding a fantasy under my bed at night, or ignoring the blue-skinned monster on the playground. My nightmares, my imagination, my worst fears had materialized in front of my eyes. Here I was suspended in this not quite nightmare, not quite reality state. Stuck in a cell with one of the beasts from my imagination. And I hardly doubted that he would be so much a gentleman as my imagination would think.

My breath hitched only in the slightest of noise, but in an instant Rowan was crouching down by me, and breathing heavily and angrily through his nostrils, I kept my eyes shut until he grabbed my hair and yanked me out of my pretend state of sleep and into reality. I gasped as he dragged me onto my feet and pushed me forcefully against the wall. I tasted blood in my mouth as he twisted my arm behind my back aggressively, chuckling at my pain and my frailty.

"Get off me!" I was the first thing I yelled as I quickly twisted myself around, slamming my bodyweight into the tall prince, moving him only the barest minimum to allow myself to land an attack to his side. He was barely fazed, but I ducked aside and across the room quickly.

I looked him over quickly: one weapon at his boot, two swords on his side, if I could get to just that dagger-

He came at me quick and strong. I haven't to this day been able to replicate my actions in combat, but somehow I crouched down, grabbed that knife, and as I was tackled against the cold ground, I placed that dagger right over the evil man's black heart defiantly. I would have tried to kill him in that second. And if I knew then his future plans for me, I would have driven that blade through his chest.

"Where the hell am I?" I demanded, holding the dagger against him.

He smirked something evil and maniacal. "The Winter Court of course," he answered as both of us slowly drew to our feet.

"What?" I breathed, still holding the knife out offensively in front of me while another hand went to the severe ache in my side. My cracked rib dug into some place internally, warping my thoughts to physical pain. I tried to focus on where I was and what I was doing here, though.

Rowan just laughed at my pain and my confusion. "It's not a place you mortal's know of. A place of terror, nightmare, and chill. No where on your maps, no where on your charts, no where in your minds is this place. Not the rest of the world. It just is. That's where we took you. To our domain of never-ending hell." He took a step forward.

My spine met the metallic wall behind me as I took a step backward. "My family?" I asked after a minute of thought. My father? Was he safe? And my brother?

"Dead," he spat, stepping closer. "To you, at least. You're never going to see them again."

My breathing increased and he stepped to only a foot away, the tip of the knife I held digging into his abdomen. I cringed, and he smiled.

"You're in the company of princes and queens, now, Makayla Aewood," he laughed. "Immortals, thieves, and deceit. Unprotected. Vulnerable." His weight shifted towards me and I felt the dagger I held slide slowly into his abdomen. He didn't even wince as it cut through him. His hauntingly pale face was less than an inch from my own. I could see his vicious icicle eyes cut right through me and the sharp distinct features of his chiseled face so clearly stood out.

I let go of the dagger quickly, letting it remain in his icy body, and pushed my palms hard against his chest, attempting to shove him away. But I was so tired and weak and he barely seemed to move. A chill ran over me, dizzying me, stinging my side, making me catch my breath and drop my resisting arms. I was sinking to the ground, but begin held standing by this prince's smirk.

I saw the dagger flash in front of my eyes before it cut through the metal in the wall too close to my head.

I knew that it was Rowan somehow that held me in this frosty winter haze. But I couldn't look away from his eyes that somehow seemed to be angered. I was growing so weakened, to the point where the prince in front of me held me upright with a crushing hold around both of my arms. I felt like I was fighting and doing nothing. Strong, yet so fragile.

And when he let me go, I fell to the ground, my black hair, resting around my face in a black halo, curling into icy little ringlets. In a matter of seconds I had pushed myself to sit, not admitting defeat.

"Why?" I asked, using the wall to pull myself up again. I would not be so pathetic and feeble as to lay on the floor, close to passing out again. If anything I had a point to prove and my honor to keep. I couldn't explain the physical and mental pain that I felt in that instant, but I knew that until he left I could not give in.

"Because you're different than other mortals, Miss Aewood," he snapped. "And quite different than any other human that has the Sight, for that matter. Even if Mab may not see it, you have so much potential for our court, girl."

He smirked and opened the door before I defied him once again. "You and your court can go to hell," I called as the door slammed and locked into place.

And once again I let myself slide to the floor, breathing deeply, and fighting that dizziness and non-clarity that clouded my thoughts.


	7. Blood for Blood

A warm hand on my face made me jump and open my eyes wide. The red haired boy smiled down at me, pulling something out of my curly hair.

"You have these ribbons everywhere," he chuckled, pulling out black and white curled strings from my hair, my sweater, my jeans. "I'm surprised you were asleep again."

I sat up slowly, looking the blunt red haired man in his eyes. "I wasn't sleeping," I stated, grabbing a few of the white ribbons and tying them mindlessly together. "It's Puck, right?" I asked him.

"The one and only," he smiled, helping me weave the black ribbons in with the white.

It seemed almost dream-like. The warmth ever- contrasting the cold. His bright reflective hair glowing in the lack of light. It made me smile a genuine smile. This Puck, who had to have been a dream, was my only source of comfort in this bleak metal prison.

"Are you here to kidnap me too?" I asked, surrendering my white ribbons and watching him skillfully weave them in an unknown pattern.

He smiled, concentrating on the strings in his long spindly fingers. "No," he stated simply. "Only to protect."

I looked up to him quizzically and he met my blue eyes. "Are you here to save me then?" I tilted my head curiously. It was odd how much I simply trusted Puck. I wasn't afraid, although I was positive that he was a creature much like Rowan. I didn't question his always being here when all others were gone. And I couldn't fight the familiarity and comfort I felt with Puck. Even if it was a dream, I knew I could put my faith in him.

"When the time comes," he answered me, gently taking my bruised arm and tying a colorful bracelet around my small wrist made of the same material as the ribbons that were in my hair. I faintly wondered how he had done such a thing, but I let that logic go. "You haven't told Mab anything about me, right?" he asked, looking back up into my eyes again.

"Who's she?" I inquired and examined my bracelet again

"The queen of the winter court," he stated. "You can't tell her about my visits. She'd be furious."

"I haven't said anything about you, Puck," I laughed. "You're just a dream." I drunk in the sweet smell of grass that he brought, savored the warm glow of his sun- kissed skin, smiled as his perfect lips smirked playfully.

"Right," he laughed with me for a minute. "Be careful here, Mac," he cautioned. "Just stay alive long enough for me to come get you, okay?"

"You won't leave me here alone, right?" I looked at him seriously, touching the soft bracelet he made me. "You're the only kind person I know now."

"I'll be back again, Mac," he touched the back of my hand for a second before fading away. With his departure I felt the room grow colder. I felt the shadows become more powerful and a curled my knees to my chest to ward off the nightmares that always came after the best dreams.

In this nightmare, Rowan returned and dragged me to my feet, hauling me out of the room and down a cold stone hallway. He didn't speak, and neither did I as he took me down a maze of hallways. Throwing open a large set of oaken double doors, he tossed me outside into the snow. I tumbled down a few steps before the icy wet substance was in my face and on my clothes. I quickly stood and he knocked me back down where I stayed shivering.

"You're not free here, Makayla," he spat, crouching over me. "This is your escape. Miles and miles of this slow form of death. You come out here, and these doors will not be open to you again. You'll be left out here to die, get it."

My lips pressed into a line as I listened to the prince's words. The longer I stared at him, the whiter his skin became, the brighter blue his eyes, the longer and lankier his limbs, the more deadly his spindly fingers, the sharper his teeth, the blacker his hair. An ugly, inhuman monster crouched over me and my breathing increased. Fear arose in my chest.

"You'll speak when I answer!" he suddenly knocked my already dizzy head with the hilt of his sword, which I had not seen him pull out.

With that I awoke instantly out of my sleep, my thoughts clear and focused as the shadowy moon arose in the sky.

My eyes opened to room that looked to me what I would imagine a hunting lodge to look like, but more foreign. Strange unknown stuffed animal heads glared down at me menacingly as I sat up in an actual bed.

I looked around the empty room, shivering only slightly under the thick quilts. "Hello?" I called, my bare feet touching the cool wood ground. "Hello?" I called again, running a hand through my curls. And gently I let the name "Puck?" drop from my chapped lips.

I spotted the shadows near a wardrobe on the nearest wall to me shift, and suddenly Rowans glaring eyes were upon me again, almost glowing irises angrily sizing me up before resting to a spot on my arm.

I looked down and saw a rainbow colored bracelet wrapped there around my delicate wrist. I looked back up to Rowan, confused as my mind remembering the odd dream that didn't seem like such a dream anymore.

The colorfully weaved ribbon was painfully ripped from its spot on my forearm and I gasped, feeling a little drop of warmth leave me completely. My little reminder of hope and strength in this place was torn away from me.

"Where did you get this!" he demanded as the bracelet turned to an ashy- snowy substance in his hand and fell to the floor in a little pile. "Who gave this to you, Makayla!" He was yelling and fuming and I stood there, searching for defiant words or actions that could be taken.

"I don't-" were the only words I got out before his smack resounded across my face. With unknown force, I rebounded and punched his jaw hard. I felt an inner struggle as he stared me down, my body got colder, but I was slowly getting accustomed to the cold.

"I should kill you right here," he spat at me, hand on his sword. I breathed hard in anticipation of a fight.

_Do anything you can to survive…_ Puck's voice rang in my ears, tickling my memory and fueling my insubordination. "You can't," I heard my own voice hiss at him. "You need-"

Rowan shoved me backward, hard, before I could finish. I almost tripped, but quickly found my footing again. "You don't even know why you're here," he snapped at me. "You don't know how many generations have been preparing for your arrival, how much this court has given up to have your gifts, your power, your blood."

"My what?" I nearly shouted.

"Sit," he ordered me. I stood my place directly in front of him before he threw me back against the bed, where I was forced to the ground. "I said sit down," Rowan hissed. And I had to stay sitting or face the sword he confidently held in his hand.

As he paced across the room, he began to talk to me. Alert and energetic, I looked around the room, scanning my surroundings in the blackness as I listened to his words.

"All it takes," he stated, his sword glinting off the faint light of the moon, "is one single drop of fey blood. Just one." He stopped, and crouched down in front of me, slicing his palm open roughly. I remember how he didn't flinch when his dagger cut through his skin, how he barely even seemed hurt now. "The power in just a single drop of blood has the power to end a human's life, Makayla."

I felt a prick on the skin on my wrist as he poked me with his large sword, only a tiny bubble of blood brought to the surface of my tan skin. My breath stopped as he grabbed my small cut with his bloody hand. I felt a surge of some strange force awoken in my body. A severe pain, yet the most peaceful bliss washed over me, and I struggled not to gasp or scream. A sweet chill washed over my bones, bathing me in a deliciously glacial layer of ice. It made my skin tingle and my eyes close in a surge of weakness that fell upon me.

When Rowan let go of my arm, I was breathing hard, forcing myself to stay awake and alert. He smirked down at me as I held my now searing arm to my chest. That was a lot more of his blood than just one drop. I wondered if I was going to die. My body, going through conflicting chills and sweats, sure felt as though I was dying.

"You see, Makayla," he spoke, leaning close into my ear as I stared at the wall straight ahead of me, still breathing hard, "when you were born, you were given that single drop of deathly faerie blood, and your body didn't reject it. The drop of blood from Queen Mab herself survived in you."

I confusedly looked him over. "How…"

I couldn't finish my sentence. Rowan understood though. He leaned back again so that I could look him in the eyes. "That, I am unsure of," he sighed, his hand now free of any blood or any trace of injury as he sheathed his sword. "But I've seen that the fey blood in your system repels my royal gifts and allows you to see us."

"What are you going to do with me, then?" I demanded.

He smirked. "When the time comes," Rowan hissed, stood, and crossed the room laughing.

All I could do was sit there: dumbfounded at the news, sickened from the foreign blood in my system, and scared for what when that time would finally come.


	8. First Impressions

"You have an audience with Mab tonight," he stated bluntly, slamming the door on his way out.

I finally let out a shaky breath that I had been holding in and tried to examine the cut where Rowan had touched. The lighting was low, though, and my thoughts were very scattered.

I assigned myself the task of standing up and finding some form of light before totally emerging myself into a confusing whirl of thoughts. On two shaky feet I rose, squinting painfully in the darkness to find a lighter or matches.

My hands fumbled on a small night table for any source of light, and when I found a matchbook I let out an audible yelp of excitement. I hurriedly lit the match and the small flame flickered between my fingers before turning a cold blue color and blowing out in a puff of smoke. At that same moment, all of the candles around the room were set ablaze. I carefully set the matchbook back down and walked myself around the room to explore. Outside snow fell it thick, sticky flakes to the white covered ground below. I frowned, opening a closet door to see a closet full of human clothes, seemingly my exact size. Again I looked around the room, confused, but choosing not to question it. I drew out a pair of tribal- printed leggings, a thick brown sweater that once again seemed a size too big, and a pair of warm-looking-fur-lined-knee-high brown suede boots.

A sound of running water met my ears just then. With a jump of surprise, I dropped the new clothes in a heap on the ground. Slowly I gathered the clothes back into a messy pile in my arms and dumped them on the bed. My feet carried me in the direction of the sloshing noises, when I stopped in a dimly lit doorway. A steamy bath was drawn for me, and as I looked around I couldn't pass up the opportunity to feel cleanly once more.

After washing my body and hair with the most wonderful smelling soaps and soaking in the steamy heat, I got dressed and finger combed through my softly curling wet hair. There was no mirror to examine myself in before the pudgy green womanly creature gathered me up again. Weaving small, weightless chains of the purest silver into my dried wavy hair, she looked disgustedly at my outfit, and with a touch of her index finger to my sweater, I was wearing the same warm outfit, but now in different shades of black, grey, and silver.

I didn't say anything to her, and she gave me the same respect. But as her tall, spindly, ash- colored cronies went to grab my arm, I pulled away with a burst of pain. The pudgy green creature looked over her shoulder for only a second as I hurriedly rolled up my sleeve to see what had caused me so much pain that I had drawn away. My mouth dropped open only a bit as I saw the brownish- purple bruising mark around the speck of skin where Rowan had pricked me. The ugly bruise wrapped around my wrist, in the shape of a distorted handprint. It made me wince just to look at the ugly, discolored flesh there.

But in a second, I was being held onto by my elbows and drawn out of the room and down numerous hallways until we came to that same ballroom or throneroom that I had been in days before. This time I was not in some winter-like haze. I was not weak and thoughtless now, and I knew that I had to be here to find a way to escape, to gather as much information about this place and about my situation as possible.

The doors swung open and I met the huge room with a set jaw and a dedicated spirit.

"Miss Aewood, please," the woman in the throne motioned for me to walk across the room. And I my boots clicked across the black and white marble hall, I noticed the utter quiet in the room. None of her son's accompanied her. There were no guards, no creatures, no noise except the slowing click of my boots on the ground as I stopped at the foot of the steps up to her elevated, icy throne.

I looked up into her black eyes as she stood and began to speak. "Makayla," her icy voice chimed my name. "If I may be so frank…" she paused, stepping onto the marble floor with me, circling me once and putting one pale, polished finger to her ruby red lips. "I dislike you, girl," she smirked at me, obviously watching to see my reaction. "My opinion is that you should be disposed of, and quickly too. You have no place here, and after now, no place in the human world."

"What do you-" I started to ask, before I was silenced by an icy finger to my cracked, colorless lips.

"I was talking, pet," she stated in a sweetly sinister tone. "My son, though, Rowan, he is obviously enticed with your being. And it is not my place to tell him how to manage his own creation."

I tried my hardest not to speak out or show any sign of confusion at her words. The truth was that I knew nothing of what was happening. It was clear that I was being deceived by someone.

"Faeries cannot tell lies," Queen Mab stated, staring directly into my eyes, examining my every movement. "Even humans know that much. I can see in your eyes and feel it in your blood that you're unsure of your future." I suppose she thought that it would scare me how she could read my emotions, how intimidating she seemed, towering over my in her elegant black evening gown. And truth be told, I couldn't help but feel afraid, at least a little bit.

"It's funny," she told me, taking one step uncomfortably closer. "It seemed as though the last time I saw you, I felt such a strong _connection_ to you." With that single sentence, her icy palm wrapped around my injured wrist and squeezed it gently. I let out the faintest of gasps as I looked down to my wrist. I could almost feel the laughter and mockery in her voice. "You know, child, that your blood is tainted with my own. It's quite extraordinary actually: you'll never belong in the fey world, but your human world can be nothing but dead to you now."

I stared at my wrist, already admitting my weakness to the hostile Queen. I could not look her in the eyes again. And she let out an airy chuckle as she dismissed me, and I was deposited into the labyrinth of hallways to find my way back home alone and terribly hurting.


	9. The Art of Escaping

I walked. It was all I could do not to hang myself or fall into a deep, unwakeable coma. I shuffled through the polished walkways, not stopping to pay attention to the ornate detail upon the walls, or the beautifully ugly paintings every few steps, or even the several faerie beasts that glared at me as I found myself more and more lost in the deep maze of never-ending halls.

As I went on the low lighting grew dimmer, the time faded away, and tears threatened to fall. So I started to run through the long hallways, stopping when I finally found myself at those grand oak doors. With an angry, forceful shove, the door swung open into a cold winter's morning.

I ignored Rowan's voice echoing in my head, looking down at my bruised arm, and slamming the doors closed behind me. As the pink and orange sun poked its head above a thick forest of winter pine trees, I sank into the cold snow onto my knees, sitting in the cold wet stuff, feeling the extras thick flakes melt as they touched my skin, nose, and bare shivering hands.

And I let out a long, loud yell. An angered scream. A pent up whirl of emotion flew out of me as I curled in on myself and started sobbing, hot tears turning to ice on my face. I looked at his hand print around my wrist and wished to tear it off my skin, to slice it off my arm. This fey blood that they poisoned me with beat with my chest, strong as the heart that the royal winter blood flowed through. I screamed out a slur of harsh foreign curses and let the fresh packing snow harden in my tightly closed, shaking fists. I think a punched the ground a few times before completely giving into my despair and hiding my face in my cold hands. Winter wind whipped my loose curls around my face, whistling in my ears and whispering the cruelest truths.

Inside, my heart yearned to go home: home to my sick father, to my caring uncle, even to my good- for- nothing brother. And somewhere, I wasn't really sure what would be there when I got home. Would they even love me if they knew I was such an abomination? Could I even go home if it meant putting my family's life in danger? What would they do without me there? I just needed to see their faces one last time: to know that they would be okay without me. But they said I could never return: that my family was dead to me. Or maybe I was dead to them? Who would want a freak daughter?

As my tears wet my cold cheeks, I considered my position: unwanted. If my own human world didn't want me, and this deadly faerie world refused to accept me, where would I stand? What would become of me when Rowan tired of me as his experimentation? Death, I knew was the answer.

And the while thinking this, that strange ally, Puck, came to mind. He told me to stay alive at all costs. To stay alive. "And how am I supposed to do that!" I shouted out at him, wherever he was, imaginary or real. I wasn't sure which was which anymore. Which memories were my reality and which my dreams? Stay alive: easier said than done. I didn't even know what Rowan fully wanted me for, besides my tainted blood.

I felt my body heave in heavy, quiet sobs. I couldn't even feel the cold anymore. I was so numb, so completely lost and confused and empty of all emotion besides sadness and anger.

It was an odd thing for me to be on my hands and knees, sobbing outside my kidnapper's house. I was never one to show this much emotion: not when my mother died, not even when my father went to the hospital. Anger was the only thing I had been able to express to anybody in my lifetime.

Looking up across the line of trees, the rising sun, the stone cold statues that scattered the fenced in grounds here, I thought to myself that really no one was here, that this lapse of composure really wasn't all that embarrassing. That is until I heard the door to the winter palace swing open loudly behind me and I heard the familiar chuckling.

I didn't wipe the tears from my cheeks. I didn't uncurl from my place on the snow-covered ground. I didn't move a single centimeter as I heard him crouch down next to me in his predatory manor and felt his strong, cold hand clap my shoulder.

"Don't you dare touch me," I growled at him, looking up to him to see that stupid smirk. I rose slowly to my feet, as did he. "You've taken everything away from me. My family, my home: the only things in my life that I have ever in the world loved!" I was yelling fiercely now, and his smirk was sort of sliding away. "I was cursed by you since the moment I was born!" Tears flowed from my eyes freely, now freezing again on my face as I stumbled back a few steps. I took a few heavy breaths, staring Rowan straight in his annoyingly blue eyes. "I'm done with this!" I snapped. "You and your queen and your stupid faerie race can all burn in hell. Because as far as I'm concerned, royal fey blood runs in my veins as much as it runs in yours, you stuck-up, boorish, useless excuse for a prince!"

We both didn't move for what seemed like an eternity, that is until he moved to draw his sword, and I went sprinting towards the pine forest. I heard him thunder after me, and really didn't think that I had any chance of survival after the way I had yelled at him. But out of my anger and pain I found a renewed strength. It barely took any effort for me to hop the short fence and duck in between the too- sharp needles and snagging tree branches. Lucky for me, I had a small enough form that I only got caught in the thicket one or twice. Rowan, who lagged behind me, found himself caught within the gangly branches, whacking at them with his sharp sword to faster catch up to me.

I wouldn't let him catch me, not as long as I could try to run. I had to survive, if not for my family or for myself, for Puck, whose voice echoed still in my ears to continue running. My lungs ached, and I felt my old cracked rib poking me in the side painfully once again, but I pushed through the throbbing sting and continued my escape, not looking back and not stopping. After what had to be an hour and a half of sprinting through the thick forest, I collapsed in the snow, panting heavily. It hurt to stop. My legs were weak and felt as though they would snap off. My chest and throat rasped uncontrollably to find any sufficient intake of air. I couldn't even open my eyes for a good minute from pure exhaustion.

So there I lay in the snow, now completely soaking wet with cold sweat and melted snow, muscles aching beyond words, quickly freezing from lack of motion. So when I was finally able to sit up, I literally screamed at the grey eyes looking back at me, not curiously or menacingly, but rather annoyed.

I could only stare as I caught my breath and rose to my feet on unsteady legs, but I knew the boy, and I knew his face. "You're another winter prince, aren't you?" I asked in a very breathy, hoarse voice.

"And you finally got the nerve to run," he shot at me, with a distasteful frown. "It's Ash," he introduced himself.

"Makayla," I stated, to which he rolled his eyes and said quite bluntly, "I know."

I closed my eyes again, praying that I wouldn't have to run again.


	10. Fate's Cruelty

It was an awkward few moments as I stood there, slowly regaining my breath, also beginning to feel my clothes freezing uncomfortably onto my sweaty, snow stained body. I was hardly in winter gear.

I took that minute of silence to look the younger prince over, taking in his tall stature, blood-streaked coat, and set of arrows and an ornate looking bow slung over his shoulder. Indeed he struck me as intimidating, but I could tell from his bored expression that he was growing tired of my presence in the thick forest with him.

"Rowan will be coming around here soon with a hunting party," he told me, almost telling me to go away. I nodded and looked around through the trees, unsure of where I was really going, where this forest ended, when I could rest again, and where I would find food, clothing, and shelter on my long journey.

I must have grimaced a little or given the impression that I truly was lost, because Ash gave a deep sigh, and walked past me quickly. I didn't follow, clearly reluctant to willingly prance after the brother of the fey who had cursed my whole being with his oh-so-special magic blood. "Are you coming?" he shouted back to me, and having no where else to go or to trust, I roughly wiped my eyes, turned around, and followed his footsteps from a far distance, slowly and cautiously making my way through the forest.

After maybe a half an hour of this tediousness, he stopped to wait for me at a dead, crippled oak tree. "Usually when a stranger helps you find your way out of the forest, it's polite to keep up with them," he frowned, looking ahead with his sharp grey eyes.

"So you're helping me?" I questioned, raising a single eyebrow skeptically. "I find that hard to-"

I felt his hand cover my mouth and throw my face down into the snow before I could finish my thought. "Quiet!" he hissed at me, scanning the area for something, or for that matter, someone.

With a loud rustling noise and a grunt, I saw Ash's shadow on the ground near me disappear, and as I looked up, I saw a flash of bright red hair.

"Puck?" I asked, pulling myself slowly to my feet in confusion and disbelief.

I studied the fey who I had seen only in dreams and in my apartment. He wasn't just my imagination. This man was real. I memorized his face quickly, hoping that he didn't fade away again as he usually did in the company of winter fey.

As I surveyed the scene, it seemed that Puck was smirking at the angered prince. "I'm not here to start trouble," he stated with his hands up in a surrendering motion. "I just came for her." He nodded in my direction without actually looking at me. It seemed as though they were ignoring me, and from their general actions toward each other, I could tell that they had their own history. I didn't know either of the two faeries, but I did know that Puck had indeed given me some kind of assistance while I was stuck in the winter prison. So I stayed quiet for a minute, letting them talk their issues out. Maybe I could sneak away if they started fighting. I was sure that I could fine my way out of the forest. I could just keep walking in the direction of the dim sun, which shone directly over our heads at that moment.

"She of our court," Ash snapped at the still smirking fey. "You can't have her, Goodfellow."

Puck laughed. "She's not even fey," he stated. "She can't be _of your court_…" But something made him pause as he looked back at me. I touched my bruise gently, a hollow pit forming deep in my stomach. I felt nauseous as Puck took a few steps closer to me, and with a feather- light touch, rolled up my sleeve to look at the blue-turning bruise. And with a shocked, almost knowing look, he stared into my eyes.

I couldn't help but look back at Ash, who now wore the icy smirk instead of Puck. "Rowan's experiment," Ash explained. "It's clever, don't you think."

"It looks to me like he's trying to turn humans into fey," Puck turned around so I couldn't see his face, "which Mab must be furious about."

Ash nodded once, and I took a startled step back, looking at my arm. That was impossible, ridiculous, inconceivable. My back gratefully hit a tree before I collapsed on the spot. Mab had told me that I was Rowan's creation, his experiment, that I wouldn't belong anywhere in the fey or mortal world. This could not be real.

"So you can't take her," Ash commented. "She's Rowan's."

I spoke quietly, staring at my ugly wrist, disgusted. "I don't belong to anybody." I wasn't some object to be claimed by Rowan or the winter court. But as I repeated my words over in my head, they became more true. I didn't belong to anybody or anyplace. Now who was I? Or better yet, what was I? This was getting to be too much for one day. I could barely handle my breakdown earlier in the morning. Now I was being forced to turn into one of these nightmarish creatures?

"I'm taking her with me," Puck stated.

"Typical Robin," Ash smirked, pulling out a cold silver sword from his belt. "Always thinking everything is his."

Puck laughed. "Don't think I won't fight for the girl," he pulled his sword, too.

And I couldn't stay anymore. As I heard the first clash of metal against metal, I took off into the forest again. Running and running and running. Muscles burning and heart thumping, I didn't get far before Puck touched my arm gently, forcing me to stop.

I was so physically and mentally drained. "I can't-" I stopped, taking a deep breath and turning around to face my friend from my prison cell, the one who I was now positive I had been friends with at the playground that day so many years ago when I forced the faerie Sight away, the one who now touched my arm sending warm tingles down my spine. "I can't do this."

I looked him straight in the eyes again, distracted by the red hair hanging in his still playful eyes, although his face screamed sympathy. Behind him, I could hear Ash approaching and so I turned around again, grabbing my painful bruise, forcing myself to feel something other than hurt and lost in thing stupid foreign world.

"I can't do this," I repeated to myself, almost as if a prayer on my cracked bleeding lips for escape from this hell.

"I can't do this."


	11. Debts Repaid

Ash had given to me his thick leather jacket, but I couldn't help shivering in the sharp wind that threatened to blow me over on more occasion than one. He scouted ahead, every once and a while yelling for us to follow him. Mostly, though, I followed Puck, staying close to him and listening to his comforting, never-ending chatter.

I watched my boots pat the new layer of snow down ever so lightly; leaving tiny footprints across the ground that quickly blew away with the winter wind. I sighed and looked up at Puck while we moved on at a slow, humanly pace.

"I remember you, I think," I told him, cutting him off mid sentence. I assumed he was fine with the topic change, for it did seem that he was trying desperately to make conversation. And I had been silent for what seemed like hours. I owed it to him one conversation.

He smirked as I expounded upon my previous words. "You very familiar is what I was trying to say," I stated, looking back down to the snow. "You were the one at the playground that day, weren't you?"

I looked back up when I heard him chuckle. "It took long enough," he joked, still smiling as he told me about that day. "You're pink dress got so muddy, I felt bad. Kids can be very nasty sometimes. But I'm surprised that you didn't fight back, I mean, look at you now."

"I've been through a lot lately," I said quietly, almost inaudibly over the wind shrieking for attention as it whipped past. My heart sank as I saw my father's body, hooked up to so many tubes and machines, as I envisioned my brother, probably sitting on the couch smoking his way through a pack, and as I heard my mother yelling at me brutally about that stupid pink dress.

Just as quiet, Puck muttered, "I know." Gently he placed a hand on my arm, and heard Ash's call far in the distance. I shrugged the away the comforting touch, and nearly sprinted ahead to a large clearing that Ash stood in.

"This is as far as I can take you," he stated, unemotionally. I wondered why he had helped me; what he would gain from assisting me in escape. But in a matter of seconds, his intentions were known.

Puck, who I had run ahead of, stumbled into the clearing being held onto by a set of strong- looking, large, fur covered creatures. I head shouts coming from a far distance away, and I felt my injured arm being dragged painfully away from my side. I let out a yell, pulling away with all my might as he sliced across the bruised vein, more painful than Rowan's small jab at my wrist. He grabbed the wrist with shocking strength, and I sank to my knees, going numb as I felt the intense throb of fey blood poisoning my body once again.

"I'm sorry," he said more to Puck than to me, still clutching onto the wound as I glared up at him, breathing heavily. "I can't break a deal with my brother, I'm sure you understand."

"I'm sure I don't," Puck snapped at him, and my wrist was released and I fell into the snow.

"You should leave before Rowan finds her here," Ash said. I heard his voice get father from me. "My debt is paid."

I saw the blood from my wrist spilling out on the white snow and felt sick. It burned and tingled and bled worse than when Rowan had given me his blood. "Mac!" Puck was saying, sounding panicked at best. "Damn it," he muttered, touching my wrist lightly. I could help but yell in pain. I closed my eyes as he dealt with the injury. I felt him tie something, a makeshift bandage, onto my badly bleeding wrist and haul me to my feet.

"Can you walk?" he demanded, and I tried taking a step, but he swooped me up into his arms before I could topple over. Puck was running, faster that I could ever run, especially in this weather. I heard shouts and barking dogs loud in my ears, and felt the sting of the cold, the fey blood, and the awful sinking feeling that gathered inside somewhere. And then I think I passed out.

I was forced awake, though, by the sting of something against my wrist. "This doesn't look good," I heard a scratchy old voice sound in my ear, and I opened my eyes just wide enough to see wrinkled grey hands dabbing at the wound with something that looked like a leaf, but felt like a cotton ball. "It's strange though, that it doesn't look infected. How did she come by this wound, Goodfellow?"

A mumbled voice slipped away from my ears, and as I looked up, I was astounded to take in the exotic, forest surrounding me. The fragrance of a sweet, warm summer met my senses and I breathed in the smell of rare flowers and morning dew. Around me, I saw tall, majestic trees and low hanging, out of place vines and branches.

But my eyes slid again, a hard pounding banging in my chest: my heart moved at triple the speed, but I was barely taking any breaths. The fast beat pushed me into another bout of sleep.


	12. Of Stupidity and Fools

There was a rustling noise that I heard somewhere in my dream, forcing me out of my dream state. I remember thinking that I had fallen asleep way too many times in the past few days- this past week? Time seemed to mean nothing here. But the one thing I knew was that I was wasting a too much of the precious human measurement in sleep.

My eyes burst open to the same forest, the same smells, just a different place, it seemed. Had I been moved again? No, the better question was where was I to begin with.

"Puck?" I called quietly into the thick expanse of the brightly lit woods, almost expecting to see Rowan's shadow face and self- satisfied eyes looking at me from behind a tree or a large bush. But no one answered me, and I stayed curled in a ball at the base of a large tree, afraid to stand or make a noise.

The leather jacket Ash had given me was gone: I would assume covered in blood. I sure wasn't going to continue wearing the thing. It wasn't too hot yet, but I could tell that this area was not of the winter court. There was no frigid wind, no puffy excess of snow, and no self righteous winter princes. It was peaceful, actually. A predatory danger hung in the air, warning me to stay on my guard, but it was nothing like the hostile wintry wasteland that I had been held captive in before.

It took me a minute to remember the tainted blood that pounded in my veins. I carefully slid up my sleeve to find a thick white bandage wrapped there above the brown, almost black, bruise. I touched it, and the tingling sensation running around the arm game me a small shock and made me wince.

I draped my arm over my folded up knees, grimacing as the small movement caused me pain. I surveyed my surroundings once again. Birds and little animals fluttered around in the trees, making small chirps and shuffling noises in the otherwise peaceful forest.

Something moved on my right and a stood up quicker than I could have imagined, ungracefully turning and bracing myself to run. I felt dizzy from the too-fast motion, but shaking it from my mind, I saw Puck standing there, giving me a smirk. A hostile smirk.

"Puck?" I asked, and he nodded, not saying a word, but signaling for me to follow him. I was hesitant, something felt wrong. My feet were shaky as I trailed after him from a far distance. His features were the same, I mean, he looked like the Puck I knew. I really had nothing to be skeptical about, and at least he was someone I knew, even faintly.

And that was when he broke into a little sprint, and desperate not to get lost in these woods, I ran after him. "Wait!" I yelled following him around a sharp corner of thick bushes and dense trees. What I saw there was definitely not Puck, but a monstrous, sneering beast. I yelled as something heavy tackled me to the ground painfully, and as I looked up, I saw the spider-web weaved net that had been dropped over my head. A net. I literally couldn't escape because of a ridiculous net.

"Puck!" I yelled. And was met with snickering as four other creatures, equally hairy, but quite a deal smaller than the large drooling monster that stood directly in front of me. "Puck!" I tried again.

One of them poked me with a sharp talon, and I struggled to get out of the heavy netted prison thrown over my head. "Curious that a human be here in the Summer court," one of them spoke, and my mouth dropped a little in surprise.

"She's not a human you nitwit!" another hairy creature snickered. "Can't you smell the winter blood on her?"

I stealthily sniffed myself to check for any odd odors. I didn't smell, did I? How could you smell like winter? I looked at my arm as they continued to debate whether I was human or winter fey.

"Jus' look at her skin," one of them commented in a strange mixture of foreign accents. "She's darker than the winter fey."

"I know what I smell!"

They argued for a few minutes as I searched for an escape route, for anything I could use as a weapon: rocks, sticks. Maybe I could trick them into letting me free. They didn't look like a bright group. But I chose to remain silent until all their eyes turned on me, and I yelled for Puck again.

The huge beast before me morphed into his version of Puck and laughed mockingly, still not saying any words, but walking toward me as I fought the netting to try and back away. "Puck!" I yelled again to the large forest, staring right into the unfamiliar eyes of the Puck look- alike.

Finally the beast talked in a voice so deep and demonic that I shuddered inside. "Go scout the path ahead," he told his companions, and they dispersed quickly, following his strict orders.

I shouted again, before the beast spoke to me specifically. "My companions are right," he breathed in the air floating around me heavily, and I looked away, embarrassed and disgusted and rather ashamed for being imprisoned by a net. "You smell like humans. It's very potent on your person. And I can see it in your eyes." I couldn't look back at the Puck look- alike. I had been so easily tricked by merely his appearance. How was it even possible to look so like a person. The thing continued to speak. "I can smell it in the air also, though. You're distinctly winter. It's a very pleasing mixture, I must say. My companions will enjoy your taste."

"My taste?" I looked up, horrified and disgusted.

"But I must ask you," he continued. "Which one are you? Winter or-"

The beast hunched forward, looking as though he was going to vomit or fall over. I tried backing away from him and to the side, but by the time I saw the arrow distinctly in the Puck look-alike's chest, he was already falling forward, morphing halfway into his hairy beast form, but not being able to fully change as he hit the ground, most likely dead.

Someone cut me out of the net and helped me to my feet as I stared in shock at the dead creature. I looked up to see the real Puck, and then looked back down at the dead, unmoving heap.

"I think it wanted to eat me," I breathed, surprised as I looked back up to Puck. His silly smile was plastered on his face, but somehow he demanded regality, at least here he did. Maybe it was that this was the second time he saved my life; maybe it was that he seemed strangely handsome when snow wasn't constantly shrouding his beauty. I wasn't sure.

"The summer court really isn't the nicest of places either, Mac," he told me. "You should follow close."

And so this time I trailed close after the real Puck. I would not loose him again, especially not in such a dangerous area.


	13. A Taste of Magic

As we walked further and further into the deep, bright, dangerous woods, I grew more and more tired. When was the last time I had any food? Or anything to drink? How long had it been since we had been walking? It felt like hours.

Puck didn't seem to even feel tired, but I lagged behind, despite my best efforts. My thin, fragile body, devoid of the need nutrients, the needed materials to survive, could not keep up with the ever-energetic Puck.

I was over-heating through my thick clothes. My bandage around my arm and my forehead were smeared with sweat and dirt. I staggered slightly when I walked.

Puck led the way in front of me, and I feared that if I dropped to my knees to rest, he would turn to me with a wicked smirk on those lips and turn into that horrible grey, shifting beast. He was quiet now as he navigated skillfully, and I was quiet now as I suffered from exhaustion.

I felt so many eyes on me, but all around me there was no one, not a single creature. But I felt shadows following me, and when I closed my eyes, even for the briefest of seconds, my ears heard a soft chatter of tiny inhuman voices.

When the sun finally set in the sky, we stopped near a river or a large lake, and Puck viewed me as I sank to the ground, utterly exhausted, unable to pull myself back up.

"Are you okay, Mac?" he knelt down next to me as I leaned back against the trunk of a large, almost pulsing tree. I felt its heartbeat inconsistently coincide with my own sporadic thumping. Like two different rhythms, almost matching each other, but always missing their synchronization by just a few tiny seconds. And deep down I felt a connection somewhere, but I pulled myself out of the haze and opened my eyes to see Puck.

He was so close as he dabbed my forehead with a cloth, felt for a fever, and diligently checked my bandage around my ugly black- blue- brown colored bruise. "You'll be okay, I think," he stated, reassuringly. I breathed in his scent, more musky and more romantic than the fruity, colorful flavors of the summer land. He smiled up at me as he re-wrapped my bandage and brushed a few wavy strands of hair from my face.

I could do nothing but smile back, leaning in only a little closer. "Thank you," I barely whispered to him, and he seemed to lean in only a little more. One of his hands was on my shoulder and one on my leg, and I felt his strong heart beat in time with the tree's steady pulse. The land, the fey, everything here pulsed with that steady beat. And my sporadic tainted blood flow was off the simple beat. I couldn't belong here.

Something cold and sharp clawed at my stomach, and I felt my sweaty body freeze in a painful instant. I pulled myself away from Puck's searing touch as he pulled away from me just as quickly. From the spot where I sat, I felt the tree skip a heartbeat and shudder. The soft dirt felt cold in my palms, and for a minute I thought everything around me turned glazy and chilly with frost. I was breathing heavily.

"What just happened?" I gasped, as the feeling slowly slid back into some dark place inside. My fingers tingled with a foreign sensation and my bandaged wrist ached. I couldn't describe the surge of energy and sensory feeling that had been so strong seconds ago, and the fatigue I felt now, even worse than before.

"You-" Puck stopped his explanation, feeling my forehead once again, rather confused. "I felt fey magic. I felt the winter chill on your skin, Mac."

"What does that mean?" I breathed, feeling the trees beat pounding harder under my hands and behind my back, almost as if it had just been shocked or scared. And I had no explanation as I looked to Puck uneasily.

"Get some rest for tomorrow," he told me, patting my knee twice and standing to look across the river.

I felt grateful for the much needed sleep, but again I knew that I was such a hindrance to my friend, who had gone through a lot, simply to help me, a confused, meaningless experiment. "You won't leave this time, right?" I asked him, fearful of the grey shape shift beast.

"I give you my word," he smirked, turning his head to face me.

That night, I fell asleep quickly with a strange fluttering in my heart and an energetic tingling deep in my chest.


	14. Betrayal

I woke up to a pitch black night, and Puck's face very close to my own. "We need to get a move on," he told me, and helped me to my feet. My eyes adjusted quickly to my dark surroundings, and as I stretched my stiff muscles, I felt that energetic chill jump through my chest once, and fly to every nerve in my body. I pushed away the stinging, tingling feeling as Puck turned back around to face me, with a large smile.

I gave a small smile back, and involuntarily yawned. "Where are we even going?" I asked him quietly in the night, looking at the wide river in front of us.

He slid into the river, not even shivering as the cold water made ripples around his body. I shook my head and took a step away from the edge of the water.

"Across the river," he answered me, and I threw him an annoyed, angry, and tired look. "Come on," he called to me, and I looked into the dark forest behind me, then back to Puck, shaking my head in a silent no. "I'll carry you," he told me, "You can ride on my back."

And I knew that he wouldn't let us stay on this side of the large river. I had to cross with him.

With a shiver, my chicken legs slid into the cold river water. The current surged and with a gasp I nearly fell into the cold water, but Puck caught my arm, and put his steady arm around me. The water had seemed so still and so glassy as I watched it from the bank, but in reality the water rushed quickly around my legs, almost trying to drag me into its shallow depths.

Soon, the water was encircled my waist, and moving in it became harder, Puck nearly dragged me, until finally he offered to give me a piggy- back- ride the rest of the way. Embarrassed, but grateful, he hiked me up onto his back and I held onto his shoulders tightly, my thin legs circling his abdomen.

Puck laughed and told me outrageous stories as we crossed the river. My tired eyes threatened to close again as I held onto his back, but his constant chatter and tales of childish tricks he had played on people and fey alike were making me smile and held my attention.

By the time we got to the middle of the river, the water was up to Puck's chest and we moved slowly and carefully across the angry, rushing water.

It was then that I felt a warm hand touch my calf, sliding off my boot. I nearly screamed. "Puck!" I gasped, and pointed into the water at a human- looking little girl with silvery scaly hands examining my boot, and prying off the other one. She looked up through the water curiously, not poking her head out to take a breath.

"It's a water nymph," Puck continued to walk, and she followed curiously by our side. Her platinum hair glinted in the moonlight and I saw her hand reach out to touch my bandaged arm, I pulled it in close, and saw her look angrily up at me. "Just don't pay attention to her, Mac," he instructed me, and I looked in front of me, examining how far we had to go.

"She keeps trying to touch my arm," I told Puck.

Again he told me to just ignore the water creature. I took a deep breath and asked for him to tell me more of his stories.

He did, and after a while, we were into shallower waters again. The nymph was gone and I waded along after Puck, my bare feet unstable on the cold slippery rocks. But Puck held onto me still, just to make sure I didn't fall, and as he helped me out of the river, I saw the sun come up over the forest line, spilling its warm light across the water.

Puck looked at my bare feet and laughed, bending down near the river and pulling out my soaking pair of brown boots. "At least she returned them," he commented as I pulled them back on uncomfortably.

I heard and saw the forest wake up as we walked on, and now, I could see a glimpse of large eyes or a tuft of black fur wandering around the bushes and trees as we walked along. It didn't take long now for me to feel exhausted and for my feet to drag. Puck insisted that we had to keep going, and tried telling me more stories that seemed oddly familiar to keep me going. But it was like the summer sun was weakening me, like I was suffering from heat stroke or something like it. Again, I noticed the pain in my stomach, notifying me that I hadn't eaten in days, the thirst in my throat, making my mouth dry.

"You haven't even told me where we're going," I snapped at Puck when he wouldn't stop to rest for only a second.

"We're almost there, Makayla," he told me, reassuringly, despite my harsh tone.

I closed my eyes and breathed out. "This is ridiculous," I told him. "I don't even know you. You could be leading me into the same trap that I was just in! I'm telling you that I feel sick and that I can barely move, and here you are, not answering-"

I screamed as he shoved me backwards into a bush, cutting off my rant. My back hit the grass as a heard a sharp slice, and an arrow was lodged in a nearby tree.

I gasped as Puck, despite the arrow that narrowly missed his head, pulled out a sword from its sheath, and stood defensively in front of me as I moved to stand.

I saw the attackers were a strange mixture of a horse and a man- a centaur, who eyed me curiously. One of them pointed another arrow straight at Puck.

"Move aside, Goodfellow," the other of the centaurs ordered. His skin was a burnt cinnamon looking color and his body was muscular and strong. Long black hair was tied back with a brown piece of string and extended down to his waist, where his body turned into that of a black stallion's. His huge eyes stared down at me as I observed his bare chest and intimidating features

"I'm taking her to Oberon," Puck addressed the beast, who stood much taller than Puck, glaring down at him. "We have no need of your assistance," he said casually, almost as if he knew the beast. I stayed quiet, unsure of what was happening around me.

The centaur smiled. "All the same, she has to travel with us. She is a human, Robin. And it is the King's orders that we bring her back with us," his words sounded kind, but his face screamed brutality and harshness. I shuddered as he grabbed my bandaged wrist harshly and let go in less than a second. I felt the chill shiver in my bones, and saw his confused face. I cautiously looked from the creature to Puck.

"Like I said," Puck stated, no emotion in his eyes. "I was taking her to King Oberon."

And a stab of hurt ripped through my chest. Was that why Puck hadn't told me where we were going? Because we were going to see a King? Royalty like Mab and Rowan and Ash? Puck had been a friend, but what were his motives. Was he just going to experiment with me, too?

I clenched my jaw shut, masking my emotion. I shoved past him as the centaur dragged me out from behind Puck, and held me climb onto his back. Ashamed of myself for trusting anyone in this faerie world and feeling defeated, exhausted, and angry, I held onto the faerie creature's back and he quickly sped to where I assumed this King lived.

I felt that chill subside in me, and saw Rowan in my mind laughing at me as I struggled to not cry again.


	15. In the Company of Kings

It all happened in such a hurried blur after that. As we pressed further and further into the heart of the summer territory, I felt more and more sick. My heart thumped quickly in my chest and my skin fought to keep cold. My aching body could hardly stay upright on the charging horse-man. I'm sure he hardly cared if I fell of or stayed his back, though.

It seemed like only a half an hour or this dizzing torture before he stopped running, and I was dumped in a large garden filled with upbeat folk music, twirling fey, and laughter, drinking, and shouting.

Puck stood in front of me and guided me to the front of the room. The centaur followed behind me, cautious to let me confront the King alone. The whole meeting went by quicker than I would imagine, though.

I saw the King Oberon and a woman sitting upon two grand throne chairs, and I was somewhat taken aback. The woman in the throne watched my every move: her predatory eyes looked me over and her pink lips frowned in disgust at my presence. She glared at me horribly and all I could do was look to the King, still feeling her eyes judging me silently.

King Oberon was having a delightful time, in contrast to the beauty sitting beside him. A large cup of a red wine looking substance sloshed in his fingers as her laughed and talked loudly with several fey standing nearby.

But the centaur cleared his throat and everything stopped, and all eyes were upon me, Puck, and the beast behind me. As I looked around, faces began to blur and I staggered on my feet, unable to focus my attention or stop my mind from spinning.

Puck and the King were talking loudly. I heard my name and the word "blood", but nothing more, really.

It wasn't that long before me vision completely failed me, and my body slumped to the grassy ground. And I felt the centaur catch me before I hit the ground, but after that my mind went blank for what seemed like hours. Hours of me sitting in darkness, waiting for my vision to return, waiting to hear a comforting voice, waiting to know my fate, waiting to wake up.

I woke up after that eternity of waiting, and felt that I was in a dream again. The sun shone upon my face, and in this summer stupor I drank in happiness. It was the first time in years that I had woken up smiling, taking the time to drink in a brief moment of happiness. I couldn't feel the chill deep in my chest engulfing me, and my wrist had stopped hurting completely. Every muscle in my body was relaxed and well rested.

I opened my eyes to look at my surroundings. Fresh sunlight poured in on me through two large windows along the wall. The room around me was earthy and sweetly comforting. The floor was stony and smooth, like polished rock. Thriving trees and their branches snaked upon the walls, growing into the ground and stretching across the ceiling. All of the furniture was wood or cloth, including the bed I now lay in.

I felt feathers tickle my tanned skin and sat up, yawning and stretching my arms into the air. I saw the beige-pink nightgown that I wore and was stunned for a second. The material was so feather light, I could hardly feel it on my body, but it clung to my every curve. It was a strapless, empire waisted dress that hardly looked like something that should be slept in. It stayed in place by hugging my chest, and floating over my stomach, hips, and upper thighs. A decorative ribbon of the same light material was wrapped around my upper arm and tied to stay in place. This outfit had to have been the most gorgeous thing I had ever worn. My hair, which had looked to be washed and styled into perfectly gorgeous waves, tickled my shoulders as it draped halfway down my back. Relaxed and refreshed, I looked around the room again.

And when I saw his face my perfect state of happiness slipped away from my reach. We stared at each other for nearly a minute before he cleared his throat and something in his face shifted. A kindness that I had seen moments before was gone, and I was his enemy. The little hope I had left in this evil faerie world was gone.

"The King requests an audience with you," Puck _ordered_ me. "He told me to retrieve you the second you awoke."

And so carefully, I slid off the comforting bed. My bare feet touched the smooth, cold stone ground and I brushed a wave of hair from my face, over to Puck.

He turned around and put a hand on the door. I couldn't see his face, but I saw his pause. "I'm sorry things had to happen this way, Mac," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry I trusted you," I hissed at him, anger and emotion washing over me, ignoring the kind tone of his voice and the way his shoulders jumped, as if he had winced from my own words.

He opened the door and led the way. I pinched myself to stop the tears and the cold shiver ran through me, reminding me that I was alone in this world, reminding me that I was tainted blood, reminding me that all I was to the fey was an experiment.

We met the King a smaller garden than the one I had first seen him in. Oberon was bending over, plucking a pink-daisy looking flower from the colorful garden around him. He sniffed it and smiled, looking up to me. Puck had vanished, leaving me alone with the King. I felt on edge, but he seemed very relaxed and greeted me with a smile.

"Makayla Aewood," he walked over to me, and handed me the flower, as if a peace offering. I held the delicate thing in my thin cold fingers, forgetting to smile or courtesy or even speak. "You're a welcome surprise to my court, child," he walked, motioning for me to follow him. My bare feet padded through the soft grass after him, listening to him speak and watching him examine his flowers.

"Titania disapproves of you being here, but she disapproves of anything I do," he chuckled and looked back up to me, looking for some kind of reaction.

A small smile came to my lips as he laughed a big, booming laugh. I felt uneasy, but he seemed to be less vicious that the winter Queen, which made me at least a little more comfortable.

"I've never met a human like you, Makayla," he stated, tilting his head. I could see him clearly now: his golden skin, shining blond hair, and friendly face. "I can so clearly see the humanity in your eyes, it's almost shocking when I sense the winter magic in you. Might I ask how you came by such a powerful combination of faerie and mortality?"

And so we walked through the small garden several times and I explained in great detail to the King everything that I had been through and everything that I had been told by Mab and her sons, not leaving out the dizziness, exhaustion, and bursts of what I assumed was fey magic from the previous few days.

We stopped walking and I waited for his reaction. It was very diplomatic for everything that I had told him about my life. Oberon looked at my still lightly bruised wrist, which had miraculously healed its giant gash and left only the outline of Rowan's handprint on the wounded area. "I think I will talk to my court of this, Makayla," he told me, running a hand through his thick head of hair. "It is clear that I cannot send you back out to Mab, but I do not think that the summer court is healthy for you. While you await our decision about your future in the summer court, Puck will accompany you." He nodded at the red haired, stony faced faerie standing near the wooden door where I had entered. "I suggest something to eat first," Oberon laughed, and exited the garden.

I looked across the garden to Puck, who spoke to the King in an inaudible whisper. I could from the look on his face that Puck was just as displeased as I was at the King's order.


	16. The New Reality

I was walking by him into the stony building when he grabbed my upper arm, and all but dragged me down several corridors and into another room, rather quickly and forcefully.

I opened my mouth, ready to yell as he slammed the door behind us and the room lit up. Where we stood, the grass tickled my feet and the bright, beautiful smell flowers crowded my senses. I could barely see the path in front of me beyond all of the white rose bushes, low hanging pink leafed branches, and bursts of pink and white colors surrounding me, contrasting so beautifully with the bright, soft grass below. I didn't get the time to gawk at the sight before Puck was pulling me through the thicket of nature into a huge field. It was just as bright and sunny with more than ten times the amount of space as the grand courtyard I had entered the summer home.

The grass looked to go on for miles and miles and the sun greeted me warmly, but not overpoweringly.

"We have to talk, Mac," Puck let go of my arm, and I looked over to him, questioningly and rather angry.

"You are the last person that I want to talk to," I snapped at him, grabbing a handful of the rough, thinner-than-silk material that hung on my body comfortably, forcing myself to keep control of my emotions. "You betrayed my trust, Puck! You lied to bring me here and completely stabbed me in the back, handing me over to another kingdom without even asking my permission or telling me your plan. You made me believe that you were the only friend I had here, that you were the knight and shining armor that saved me from the evil winter kingdom, but all along you only wanted to just hand me over to another person of royalty, so that they can experiment on me too!" I stared him directly in his hurt eyes, forcing him to address me and respond.

"I brought you here because I knew you would be safe, Makayla!" he yelled at me. And as one of the first times I hadn't seen him laughing and ridiculous, I was rather taken aback. "I know that Oberon won't hurt you or send you away for a while. But I had no other choice. You're obviously sick and unstable and lord knows if Rowan is out there looking for you! I couldn't just leave you there in the winter court or in the forest alone. So I'm sorry if you don't trust me, but this is for your own good, okay?"

The fabric bunched in my cold palms dropped and I looked at Puck dumbfounded.

"I'm trying to help you," he said quietly, that familiar look of kindness in his eyes. "I just have this feeling like I need to protect you."

"What?" I asked, flustered as Puck took a step closer.

The sweet smell of colorful flowers, the fresh scent of cut grass, the spicy cinnamon I breathed when Puck leaned in made me dizzy, and I looked down to my bare feet.

"You'll be safe here," he went on, and I looked up to his leather- vested chest layered upon a rough, black medieval looking shirt. "It'll take the court weeks to discuss you and maybe even months to decide what to do with you. And the winter court would never find you here. You could-"

I pushed back on his chest and stepped around him quickly, frightened by how wonderful the notion of staying in this summer paradise forever. "Stop," I breathed, attempting to regain my senses. I walked a long distance away from him and turned, looking back at his red hair and hopeful gaze. "I need to go home and take care of my family. I can't just stay here forever."

"Mac-" Puck cut himself off with a long sigh. "Mac, your family doesn't remember you."

I stared at him, blinking, confused, afraid.

"Rowan made them forget you," he told me as I sank to the ground to sit on the reassuring grass. "He made it so that no one remembers you at all. And when I told him, Oberon gave them money and the best life possible. He made your brother forget his addictions and your uncle a successful company and even your father a little bit better health wise."

My hand went to my mouth as I choked down the feeling of tears and anger and despair. "They took away my life?" I questioned, running a hand through my hair.

Puck sat down next to me and put an arm around me. I couldn't even move to brush it away. He spoke and I stared at the grass, mind racing, emotions whirling. "You knew you couldn't go back," he spoke slowly and comfortingly. "They're doing better now, Mac. What more could you want for them?"

I took a few slow and deep breaths, regaining my composure, telling myself that I could cry later when I was alone. "So I'm stuck here?" I asked him.

He didn't answer, and I hugged my knees to my chest, letting the gentle summer breeze ruffle through my hair and flutter my dress around me gracefully. Reality had hit me that I wasn't ever going home. I wasn't ever going to belong, I wasn't ever going to be someone's family again, and I wasn't ever going back to my old life.

I wasn't ever going to be the same. This was my home now. This was my life. This was my future.


	17. Dancing Sunsets, Romantic Nights

"I'm really a part of this world now," I commented, looking up at Puck, my disparity slightly lessened by really his mere presence. I didn't trust him again, I was sure of that. But he was the only companion I had here, and like he said, at least he was looking out for my safety.

"Who wouldn't want to be?" he asked, me with a smirk, standing up and pulling me to my feet too. He looked around us at the fields and the gardens and the sky that looked so real but really couldn't be because I was certain we were indoors.

I gave a small grin, and watched Puck as he stood down to pick up the small pink flower from Oberon that I had mindlessly discarded on my way inside the odd room. He walked back over to me and bent down onto his knees, I followed him, sitting on my own knees, watching him cautiously and carefully. He held the stem of the flower in his palm, keeping it upright, and told me to watch closely. I saw thin white roots worm the way out of the ground and force themselves into the stem of Oberon's flower. Puck let go to place his hands on the earth next to the misshapen plant, and the roots continued to grow out of the ground, connecting themselves to the small flower, feeding it a warm substance that I could almost feel flowing into the plant, making it grow and swell until finally it seemed to explode in a bust of blue, burning sparks. It the place of the small flower stood a gorgeous other- worldly rose looking flower, glazed with a shimmer along its long, thick petals, drizzled with just the slightest touch of white discoloring. It could feel it beating and thriving into the ground below my fingers, and when I smiled, looking up to Puck, he was staring at me.

I looked back to the flower, feeling the familiar after- shock of magic tickling my fingertips. And I remembered how I felt when I knew the fey magic came over me, how powerful and draining an experience it was, how horrible it made me feel, how unstable and completely random it washed over me. Even now I could feel the chill in my chest, in my bones, waiting to be let free. "Teach me," I said without thinking. If Puck could make something so beautiful, I had to be able to do something with the little magic I had in me. I had to be able to make an impact, to make this curse a gift. And it might be the only way that I was to ever fit in somewhere in this strange land.

"You're not fey," he laughed at me and we both stood up. "And it's not easy to-"

"I have Mab's blood," I told him, not listening to his counterargument, a new determination growing in me. "Royal fey blood! And Ash even said that Rowan was trying to make me fey. Oberon told me that he can feel a powerful fey presence in me."

Puck looked unsure of me, like I had said something dangerous to him. "None of this has been done before. Whatever magic you have or blood you have in your system is dangerous and unpredictable, Mac," he told me. "You could hurt yourself, or even kill yourself."

"If you don't teach me, I'm going to learn it myself, Puck," I told him, the idea set in my head. I could feel the magic, I could access it, so I had to be able to use it, right? I could barely even imagine what it would be like to will something into being, to be in control of my curse, to do something for myself.

"You can't," he brushed my words aside as a joke. "And hopefully you never will. Magic isn't something to be taken lightly or messed around with."

"Then you should teach me," I insisted, looking back at the still sparkling, perfect rose.

Following Puck back into the garden, he turned back to me. "Absolutely not," he stated with finality, and pursed my lips, following him out past the pink and white flowers and trees and into the stone hallway. I would find a way to control this winter magic. And it wasn't as if I wasn't going to be careful. What harm could it really do?

"Well I'm hungry," Puck smiled back at me, and I gave him a small smile back, my thoughts other places entirely. He showed me to a small dining room with trays of food and bowls of strange fruits splayed across the spread. I grabbed something that looked along the lines of an apple, but peeled open like an orange and tasted more like pure honey. The warm, sweet juices filled my mouth. The fruit put me into a tired, summer haze and before I could take another piece of the delicious fruit, Puck steered me out of the room.

I laughed as we walked down the hall and he steered me back into the room with the flowers and the large field. I saw the sun was lower in the seemingly fake sky, and that the rose creation was still planted in the soft grass in the middle of the field.

The next few hours went by in a blur. I remember music and singing and plenty of dancing and laughing so hard my side hurt. And near the end of that day, when the sun was lowering gently in the sky, I collapsed on the ground in a fit of happiness, all of the worries and stress in my life just melting away.

Puck lay down next to me as I looked up and the first glimpse of stars shining fourth from the sky sparkled in the night. I told him how my brother and I had connected the dots in the stars to form shapes and we lay there in the soft grass talking and watching for what seemed like hours more.

I could feel the effects that the sweet fruit had on me wearing off, leaving me tired and exhausted and happy. I looked over to Puck and really looked at him for the first time that night. I felt like we had both had too much of that alcohol-like fruit and we were both neglecting our normal mentalities. But something in me, something spurred by that drunken high, made us look at each other with new eyes.

"You'll always be here for me, right?" I asked him, forgetting my lack of trust for him, forgetting the summer and winter court, forgetting the chaos that was my messed up life.

I saw the smile in Puck's eyes as he flipped over and hovered over my face with his own, his arms supporting him, his chest right above my chest, his calmingly sweet breath tickling my nose. "I will always be right here for you," he spoke, smiling, and leaning in.

Our lips touched, and I could feel the electricity between them. I could taste the summer fruit on his lips, warm and soft in comparison to my own cold, hard lips. I lifted up my hands to run my fingers through that ridiculous red hair and pull him closer, and we both savored the moment. Out of my summer haze and in complete bliss, I remember that single moment more strongly than the rest of memories in my time at the summer court. I remember how perfect that kiss felt, how we both just matched each other perfectly.

That electric kiss seemed to last through the entire starry night.


	18. Blissfully Neglecting

I woke up breathing lightly against his bare chest, his arm across my hips, hugging me close. As I tried to remember the events of last night, my only thoughts were of the intense, passionate, romantic kiss. It made me smile for a minute before reality rained down hard.

My stomach growled and I moved to look up at Puck's just opening eyes. "Good morning," he mumbled sleepily. I pressed back against his chest, looking up at him through bleary, tired eyes, confused and afraid to remember the happenings of last night. His hand went from resting at my hip, to twirling little strands of hair around his long fingers.

"Last night," I asked, looking straight into those playful eyes. "We didn't…well, I mean… nothing-" I fumbled to actually say the words I was thinking.

"Nothing happened between us, Makayla," Puck sighed with a smile, still playing with my hair. I remembered that kiss that tingled still on my lips as I smiled back up at him. "Except that kiss," he read my thoughts, laughing dropping his warm palm onto my cool shoulder. I felt a blush crawl up to my cheeks.

"So what happens now?" I asked him, unsure of where we both stood, unsure of what my future held, unsure of everything in my life.

He kissed my forehead, pulled me to my feet, and gave me a playful smirk. "Now, we get breakfast," he laughed, making his way back through the garden into the stone hallway.

I was reluctant to leave. Puck's soft imprint of his smooth kiss still traced over my forehead, the nervous butterfly that leaped in my stomach when he made contact with my cold skin remained. I looked down not a meter a from where I stood to see that still shimmering rose, magic pulsing through it's leafy veins, giving me a bright hope for my future with Puck.

Somewhere inside, I pushed down the notion that Puck and I would never work out, that we weren't made to be together, that it would only cause me more pain. I couldn't help trailing happily after him to get a morning snack, his warm hand strong and secure around my thin, cold fingers.

Whatever doubts I had were hardly important. I was here now with Puck, safe and incredibly happy. With him I could forget about my old family, forget about my winter curse, forget about my troubles.

Puck and I would laugh and dance in our special field, twirling among the fields, watching the stars, and simply just talking about our lives and our hopes and dreams and fears. He would take me around the summer court, showing me certain rooms of the fortress, taking me to see his companions and important friends, always avoiding Oberon and Titania, always sneaking me away to give me a romantic embrace or a soft, sweet kiss.

I can't say how many days or weeks or months this went on for. I had forgotten my life and my identity to be quite honest. How could I want to return to a world where I was an outcast and an experiment and an abomination? I was happy in the summer court, happy with Puck, happy with my romantic- dreamy life.

How could I want anything to change?


	19. New Buds

I was laying down flat on my stomach, my perfectly curled hair tickling my bare shoulders. The strapless gown, made of the same roughly thin material as my first dress was crumpled underneath my flat stomach. I had been given a gift from the summer court: a closet full of these gorgeous gowns, leftover from other ladies of the court that discarded the light, flimsy material. The dress I wore now, short like the rest of the other dresses in my closet, was a pale blue that had no real waistline, but hugged my thin stomach comfortably, twirling outwards as it came to my hips. Again, this dress was not too tight on my growing- skinnier and taller frame, but was far more revealing than any dress that real ladies of the summer court wore commonly.

I sighed and focused in on the red and white sparkling rose straight in front of my nose. With a laugh, I saw Puck lay down across from me onto his stomach, trying to distract me from what I had been trying to do since Puck had planted this rose.

"It's not going to happen, Mac," he taunted me. "You're not fey."

I shot him a playful frown and closed my eyes placing my ear to the ground and laying my palms flat against the ground beside the growing rose. And taking the time to ignore Puck's distracting words and listen to my heartbeat, I found that spark of chill in my chest, making it's way around my body, excitedly pricking at my fingertips, shivering in my bones, giving me the most exhilarating rush of adrenaline.

The feeling slowly slipped away as it always did, and I desperately felt around to try and regain that sensation. I didn't open my eyes, disappointed in my failed attempts during my time here. And I knew Puck would mock me playfully when I opened my eyes again, but I didn't move, still clinging to the one tiny pin-prick of fey magic that lingered in my index finger.

I hoped and prayed deeply that the magic would return. I just had to hold onto it. My heart beat slowed in my chest, the energy fading and the magic in my finger numbing. My fingernails dug into the ground, angered at my consistent inability to use the magic welled inside of me.

"Mac," I heard Puck call my name comfortingly, trying to make me stop.

"No," I snapped at him. And holding my breath, I tried again to feel the magic within me. "I can do this," I muttered to myself.

I waited for what seemed like an hour, waiting for the dizzying magic to come back. I had only just opened my eyes, when a rush of wintery cold crawled up my naked legs and slashed across my back, cutting through my heart and pounding through my skull. I gasped, and closed my eyes again, seeing Rowan's laughing face, seeing Puck with an evil smirk on that beautiful face of his, seeing a cold, blue shell of who I thought was me- face emotionless, hair and eyes a blank lifeless white. I was breathing deeply as I remembered the flower. Its rosy sparkling petals froze over, gathering frost and withering in my mind's eye. I couldn't stop it as a small rose bud, made entirely of ice took its place in my strange vision: a beauty so deadly I could hardly breathe.

"Makayla!" Puck yelled, and my eyes flew open, heart beating ever quickly, cold echoing painfully through my small body. I looked down at my hands, realizing I my fists had closed around the soft earth and turned the dirt and grass into a pile of a snowy- ashy material. I let out a smile as I sucked in mouthfuls of sweet summer air.

My eyes went up to Puck's who looked shocked and rather confused as he stared down at the shimmery rose. As I looked down to it, I stared in wonder. A small, icy rose bud wrapped its delicate stem around the powerful pink rose. And they both pulsed with the same essence of beautiful magic.

"Puck!" I gasped, not able to say anything else. "Puck!"

I looked up at him as his lips fell into a straight line. I couldn't help but feel that I had done something wrong as I felt the aftershock of the burst of magic raced through me. I looked down at the icy rosebud, watching it carefully. The red rose I _felt_ in the ground sharing the life- giving magic as their roots entangled with each other, coexisting peacefully and happily. My own creation and Puck's own. What could be wrong with that?

He was looking at me with an unreadable expression. And I sat back, not feeling the magic leave my system, it lingered curiously, making my skin icy and smooth. Making me think clearer, feel more, and see in greater detail. And finally, when Puck did speak I was confused myself.

"I told you not to mess around with magic that you know nothing about!" he snapped at me. "What if you had hurt yourself? What if you had killed yourself? What if you had hurt me?"

An angry, hurt emotion welled inside of me. "I didn't though," I told him, feeling a little light headed. "I grew a flower," I said exasperatedly, almost begging him to be happy for my new discovery. I felt like a child, being told not to do something bad. But the magic wasn't bad, and I knew that.

"I see the flower, Makayla!" he yelled, angry with me now. I shrank back, feeling the sting in his words.

"Why are you so angry with me, Puck?" I asked him, my voice quieter, betraying my emotions.

"You're in pain!" he stood, swinging his arms boldly as he chided me. "I saw it when the magic first hit you! This fey magic isn't safe for you to go around playing with, Makayla! You don't know anything about it, and you're going to get yourself hurt! It's not your responsibility to experiment with dangerous magic and it's not your place to put others and yourself in danger. You're too valuable to loose."

I was silent as I took in his words and shakily rose to my feet. "Valuable?" I asked at him, my voice upset and wavering. "What do I have a price now?" Where had my carefree summer wonderland gone? How had it slipped by so fast?

"No, Makayla," he snapped as I took a step back from his reach. "You're valuable to me. I don't want to get hurt again."

I looked up at him, his eyes were sorry for offending me, but his face was angry with me still. I dodged him quickly, darting to into the large pink and white and painfully bright garden, towards the door.

"Where are you going?" he was running after me. I ducked through branches and flung open the door, knowing the halls well enough by now to sprint back to the bedroom I called my own now. I slammed the door before he was able to follow me in. I didn't have a key to lock it, but I knew Puck wouldn't come in without telling me.

"Makayla!" he called in, then sighed loudly. "Makayla, let me in."

I sank to the floor dizzy and angry and hurt and unable to control all of the conflicting emotions. "If I were meant anything to you, you'd be happy for me, Puck!" I snapped at him, feeling tears stain my cheeks, and wiping the wetness away furiously. I angrily wiped them away with the back of my hand, unable to understand why _I_ would be crying at a time like this.

I heard the door open, and Puck sat down across from me, his face still pulled into a worried grimace, but a certain softness in his features now, as I tried to pull myself together. What is _wrong_ with me, I asked myself. Could fey magic make you emotional?

"I am proud of you for using your gift," Puck told me, reaching out to tuck a curl behind my ear. "But I'm scared that you could hurt yourself, Mac."

"I need to be in control of something in my life, Puck," I felt my voice whisper, betraying my thoughts in the whirl of unstable emotions. I felt Puck wrap his arms around me tightly and I buried my face into his shoulder, my arms wrapping around his shoulders and neck.

I felt my eyes close and my head get fuzzy.

And in completely ruining the soulful moment, I fainted in Puck's muscular arms.


	20. False Memories

My eyes opened to an eerie grey room. I didn't feel the warmth of summer. I didn't feel the giggling wind lifting and ruffling with my hair. I didn't feel anything, except a cold empty feeling inside. My feet, clad in white leather boots, brought me to a strange vanity I had never seen and I felt a chill crawl down my spine as I splashed icy cold water from a crystal bowl onto my face. When I looked up into the mirror, my evil reflection looked back at me. My pupils were gone, replaced with a white glassy nothingness. My hair was just as white, fading only to black at the very tips, and pin straight, thinner than I could remember. I remember a panic that overcame me as my mouth dropped open as I took in my see pale blue skin. I called out for Puck, but he never came. And after I was done examining my real flesh, I looked back into the mirror to see a stone- faced winter Prince. The only one whose blood wasn't flowing in me, the one who had said nothing to me ever, the one who I would avoid for eternity if I had to. I clamored to my feet, knocking over a chair, and backing up against the wall as he took a step closer. Farther behind him in my room I could see Rowan smirking evilly, and I was breathing heavy. I felt something wet down my arm and I saw my own blood all over my pale blue skin, smeared onto my stark white dress, turning everything I touched a sticky, dark red. I looked up, trying to scream, but not having any voice. Sage took a step closer to me and whispered in a deep voice, "Come home with us, sister."

I closed my eyes and the dream was over, I was panting and my voice was hoarse from yelling and gasping. "No!" I was hearing my voice scream repeatedly. I could do nothing to stop the yells and the shouts coming from my throat.

"Makayla! Makayla! Mac!" I heard Puck shouting over my own voice, and putting his arms around me to stop my yelling. His warm embrace forced me out of my panic and caused me to calm down, even if only in the slightest bit.

I was gasping for air against the thin brown shirt that clung to his chest. I held back sobs as I breathed deeply, trying hard to stop my hysteric gasps. My hands were at his chest, bunching up the fabric there in my palms, and releasing it continuously.

"Shh," he stroked my hair. "You're okay now. It was only a dream."

Was it only a dream? I couldn't close my eyes, for fear of Rowan's evil grin, fear of Sage's ominous words, and fear of my own blank eyes staring back at me. But as I slowed my breathing and took time to examine my surroundings, my heart started beating at a normal pace, my hands stayed steady on Puck's chest, my senses telling me that I was physically fine.

The room held its summery dew, the gentle breeze rolling through the window caressed my perfect curls, my wrists were not bloodied, and my gauzy whit dress was free of any rips or stains.

"Are you okay?" Puck asked me after a few minutes of my normal breathing. "What happened?"

"The winter princes were there," I told him, leaning back as he held my hands in his comfortingly in my lap. I sat across from him, telling Puck of my nightmare, feeling the prickle of magic awake as my guard went down. "Rowan and Sage, I mean. And there was blood everywhere. And my eyes and hair were just a disgusting, emotionless white. And Sage called me his sister. And-"

"Stop," Puck put a finger to my cold lips. "Are you okay?"

I looked him in the eyes, and my worries melted away if only for a second. "I think I'm fine now," I said quietly. My lungs felt as though I had run a marathon, my eyes drooped in exhaustion, my heart beating with the aftershock of adrenaline and the feeling of frigid winter magic.

Puck held me for a minute more and I remembered how I had passed out in his arms before my ugly nightmare. I recalled that sentimental moment that we didn't get, that we shared now.

"Is this because I played with the faerie magic," I asked him, quietly.

He laughed, entangling his fingers into my curls. "Probably," he chuckled, kissing my forehead ever so gently.

I sigh deeply and looked up at him, wondering how he was here for me when no one else was, how he was such a guardian angel.


	21. Dinner with Royalty

And audience with the king and queen.

"How long have I even been here?" I asked Puck nervously, looking quickly through the long flowing dresses that the court had so graciously given me. I pulled out a beautiful, long, bright cerulean blue colored one, and ducked behind a screen to change as I talked to Puck.

"Not long enough for them to make a decision," he called back to me as I heard him take a seat on my soft, feathery bed. "They probably just want to meet you, Mac. Just see who they're working with.

I pulled the gauzy material over my head, admiring the shimmery, almost sparkling fabric. The dress was too long, dropping past my bare feet onto the stone floor. I looked myself over in a mirror, adjusting the one shoulder- number that hung loosely over my body, reminding me of a Grecian gown. It hugged my waist gently and floated down my figure to fan out at my feet.

I stepped out from behind the screen and looked at Puck skeptically. He gave me that playful smirk and I panicked. "I should go change again, shouldn't I?"

I turned back to my closet as Puck got up, and walked over to give me a small hug and peck on the cheek. "You're perfect, Mac," he smiled at me, tucking a familiar pink daisy- looking flower behind my ear.

I sighed, searching Puck's big eyes for something. A mixture of nerves and wintry cold magic shivered through my body and fluttered through my stomach. King Oberon and Queen Titania, my so- gracious hosts, wanted me to go to a dinner with them. Puck chuckled at me. "I'm going to be there the whole time," he said comfortingly.

"I know," I sighed. "I'm just- what if they send me away Puck?"

"They won't," his palm rested against my cold cheeks.

"Are you certain?" I pressed him.

"I-" he started, but couldn't finish the thought before a voice called from the hallway.

"The King and Queen are not to be kept waiting!" He sounded angry, but I nearly ran into the hallway in my anxious rush.

Puck held my hand tight and walked me down the long stone corridors, smiling and keeping me sane. I was so nervous, I'm sure I must have been gripping Puck's hand so tight I broke his fingers, but he kept smiling down at me. And finally we stopped at a set of gold- plated doors.

I took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Relax," he laughed at me, giving my hand a squeeze.

We walked in, and he dropped my hand, careful not to let the king and queen see his affection. Titania smirked with her soft pink lips, obviously noting the connection between Puck and I. Oberon simply looked happy, commanding, only smiling just in the slightest.

Awkwardly I gave a small curtsey, and Puck ushered me to my seat at the intimate table. I sat across from Titania and directly to the left of Oberon, who sat at the head of the table. On the other head of the table was Puck, sitting quietly, waiting for the King to speak first.

I took note of the room. It was like the inside of a gem. Gold silverware and dishes lined the ornate table, all around was elegant, richly colored walls and floors, the light of sunset flooded the dining area and it looked so romantic and well set. It was an odd dinner for an audience with the summer royalty.

King Oberon cleared his throat, and my posture instantly straightened. I tried to keep my hands for shaking in my lap as he motioned for a server to bring the meal, and looked to me with a serious expression.

"Miss Aewood," he told me, and I found I held my breath for a minute, awaiting his words. "I'm afraid I have bad news."

I glanced at Puck with a worried expression, and he looked stone faced and directly at Oberon.

"Makayla," the king sighed. A panic fluttered in my chest, and I felt magic tingle in my fingers. "The winter princes threaten to wage war if we don't offer you back to them." The king held sympathy in his glassy eyes. "And while it is not our place to give such a powerful weapon, such a valuable person, back to them so easily, it is also not our way to wage a war over one human. You do understand?"

"I would never ask you to fight for me," I said quietly, almost inaudibly. My voice shook and the magic in my fingers sparked painfully. I'm not going to lie when I say I was scared of what lay ahead of me.

Puck didn't seem to hear me, though, and I almost jumped as I heard him speak. "With all due respect, my King, wars in this land have been fought for much, much less than a _human_ girl," Puck spoke, almost angrily.

"Puck, this is not your decision," Oberon spoke, a regretful tone in his voice, as if he was speaking to an old friend. "And we both know that this situation is much more complicated. She's not mortal anymore. She isn't even of our court."

Puck was quiet then as I drew my legs up to sit Indian style in the luxurious table chair, to sit more comfortably and maybe calm down a bit. My fingers were shaking.

"Child," Titania interrupted the conversation, looking at me, smiling a pretty, poisonous smile. "I hear that you've been experimenting in our court with your winter magic."

Confusedly I looked at Puck, who looked genuinely surprised.

"Titania, are you sure now is the best time to discuss-" Oberon said quietly to his wife.

"Now is the perfect time," she said smoothly, still staring at me. I felt that she was waiting for me to slip up, to hurt myself. "Won't you show us your magic," she commanded me, using pretty words to make it seem optional.

"I'm not-" I started, feeling the magic in my fingers aching to be used. "I can't control-"

"Try, dear," she ordered, and helplessly I looked to both Oberon and Puck for a way out, but was offered no assistance. Puck seemed to sit up straight in his chair, looking ready to sprint or run. Oberon offered me nothing more than a curious stare.

So I reached for the golden cup that held a liquid-metal-looking drink inside it. I barely touched the cup before my heart stopped, and the winter magic overpowered me. The gold cup turned to pure ice at my fingertips. I shivered, trying to keep myself from gasping or screaming or crying or passing out. I closed my eyes to see Sage's face staring me right in the eyes, holding out a hand to me, calling for me. "Sister-" I heard him call, before I opened my eyes and snapped my hand away from the icy cup.

I let out a deep breath, feeling dizzy and sick as I looked from face to face at the table.

The King looked me over as if I were a sick puppy that he had to put down. Titania smirked across the table, watching my reaction to the rush of magic that flooded my system still. As I turned my head to see Puck's face, my vision blurred, and I felt my mind and body go numb. I heard Oberon stand as I fell out of my chair, waiting to hit the ground. But Puck seemed to have known I would faint, and before I passed out completely, I saw his tuft of orange hair, and felt his strong arms keeping me from hitting the floor.

I remember thinking as I passed out that I hadn't even been served any food, and how I had probably ruined the nice dinner that was set out for us all so neatly. The King and Queen would really hate me now for fainting in their presence.


	22. Final Exile

It didn't take long for me to come to.

I woke up with Puck's face directly over my own as I tried to keep out images of a laughing winter prince and my own cold, red blood drowning me. "Are you okay?" he asked me, his lips pulled into a thing line. I could tell from his eyes that he was furious, but couldn't act upon the emotion.

I looked up, taking a breath to see the King standing over me with a rather angered expression as well. He wasn't staring at me, but rather at Puck, who quickly pulled me to my feet and went to stand a few meters away. I was still dizzy and looked from Oberon to a displeased Titania.

"Well now that our dinner is completely ruined-" the Queen said in an airy, disgusted voice, before Oberon cut her off, mid- sentence.

"I will _not_ have winter magic in my court, Robin Goodfellow!" he was yelling at Puck. I watched, feeling a sorrow well up inside. It wasn't that the King didn't want me. It wasn't even that I had ruined the dinner. The unsteady sadness clung in my throat from the fact that Puck was being punished for what I was. "She can't stay here, and I've told you that from the time you dragged her in here! She doesn't belong here, and she is absolutely not my responsibility. The winter court has its playthings, and we have ours. It's not your duty or right to have her stay here, Robin!"

I watched Puck as he stayed quiet and fuming. I interjected before the fight could become any worse. "I didn't mean to be any inconvenience, sir-"

"You!" he turned on me, and it was one of the first times that I actually saw his _anger_ directed at me. "You are not welcome in this court, child. I've protected you for far too long, and our court cannot afford to shelter you here any longer. You are not my problem, Miss Aewood." He had barely finished my official exile before I was running out the gold- plated doors.

My feet carried me through unknown hallways and I was lost once again in another castle, another court, another vicious, foreign place. I didn't cry this time, I didn't yell, I didn't even have a melt down. I just ran, barefoot through the stone halls of the summer court, before I pushed through a door that looked like an exit and ran face first into the broad chest of a familiar figure, who grabbed my still-bruised wrist roughly.

I didn't scream, but with all that leftover magic surging through me, I pushed hard against Rowan's chest, and felt an icy slash run across my hands as the winter prince let go of me. I was breathing deeply again, staring up at him disgusted and angry.

"She's gotten stronger since I last saw," he chuckled, not touching me again, but talking to a figure at the front of a large hall. It was the place I had entered before, where I had first seen Oberon and Titania, where fey still halted their joyous dancing and sweet music, just to observe me and my winter captors.

Oberon looked stone faced at me and at the winter princes, but Titania's lips curled only in the slightest, wickedly glad to see me go. And Puck stood at Oberon's left side, arms crossed over his chest, eyes avoiding my own.

"You have what you came for, sons of Winter," he barked at the three Princes and the four or five guards behind them. "Leave my court, now, before violent action must be taken." I felt sick as I shivering in my thin summer gown.

"Mab sends her regards," Rowan called back to the King and rest of the faeries in the garden- hall, grabbing my elbow and pulling me out of the summer court with him.

And that was really the last time I would ever see the beautiful summer wonderland, so opposite my own frosty court. The thick doors closed behind me, never to be opened again to a daughter not fully of winter and not fully of mortality. I only remember someone, I assumed Ash, knocking me out: his armor- clad elbow hit my temple with a painful whack, and I was back ina world of nightmares and icy regret.


	23. The Choice

I woke up in a cold familiar room that looked like a hunting lodge. Torn from me was the blue summer gown. Now I wore a man's black, thick work shirt. I wore a pair of black, thin leggings that left my scrawny calves and thighs shivering in the cold. A pair of black wool socks were pulled up to my knees, but my feet were still freezing.

I lifted my head off the hard pillows to find my black hair completely straight and thin to the touch. My skin was paler than normal, my lips cracked and losing color. I felt the winter magic nestled in my body, thrumming contently, giving me life and energy and a power that I hadn't yet become used to.

When I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, I saw Sage sitting at the foot of my long, white bed. I stared at him with my alert, cautious, blue eyes. He looked right back into them, trying to read me, trying to win my trust.

"You're the last winter prince," I spoke finally, my voice cold and quiet. I waited for his action, ready to move if he tried to attack.

Sage only nodded once.

"You're going to give me your blood," I stated, holding tight to my bruised wrist, that hurt somehow even worse now than it had in the summer court.

Sage nodded, and spoke for the first time directly to me. "There's quite a possibility that it could kill you, Makayla Aewood," he stated in a deep voice, unmoving.

"Then why would you put me through this?" I asked him, my face stony, my voice unemotionless. I felt like a shell, like there was nothing inside me but cold, blowing air. I couldn't feel fear or hate or disgust anymore, just acceptance. I accepted that I was never going to see Puck again. I accepted that I might die. I accepted that I was cursed forever to be part of this winter wasteland.

Sage must have seen it. He must have known that I was so dead inside. To this day I can never forget his words. "There is something more planned for you," he told me, inching a bit closer to put his hand over my own comfortingly. "Fate always has a greater purpose for struggle, Makayla. You have to know that you can't stay this way, never fully able to use your magic, never fully able to be a part of the rest."

His words made sense. As he spoke, I felt the magic stir itself within my bones, within my blood, anxious and excited for whatever lay ahead.

"It is your choice, though," Sage spoke. "You can be half- human, half-fey, half- alive. Or you can seize the opportunity before you. Be a _princess_ of the winter kingdom. Truly fight for your life and your own destiny."

My mouth opened only slightly, and then shut itself once again. There was a long pause in the air between us.

Slowly, only so slowly, I let go off my bruised wrist, I let go of everything holding me back, I let go of my past. I held my arm out in front of him, exposing my bruised wrist, offering him to take my humanity or my life.

"Are you sure?" Sage asked, looking from my tiny wrist to my big eyes.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "I have nothing left to loose."

The cut was small and the action quick. In no time, his blood was mixed with mine. In no time, I felt that painfully exhilarating rush of magic befall me. In no time, my mortality was gone. In no time I was a fey of the winter court.

In no time, the world went black, and I sat in wait to find out if I were dead or if I were completely ready to start a new chapter in my life.


	24. Author's Note

**Hello readers!**

**Thank you so much for all of your support and helpful comments. I really enjoyed writing this fanfiction. I know that I haven't updated everyday and there are many errors in my writing, but I hope that you have all had a good time reading 'Of the Rest'.**

**For all of you interested, I will be continuing with Mac's story in a new fanfiction titled 'Winter's Child' (still by me, the author nikanak- you can find it on my author's page under the stories section).**

**Thank you so much for your interest and support! I look forward to writing for you in the continuation of this story. **


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